Survival of the Fittest
by Susan Zell
Summary: Complete - A day of hunting becomes a struggle for life and death for the explorers when they are stalked by a pride of sabertooths. The story will be updated weekly. New Chapter Eleven.
1. A Fresh Sign of Game

TITLE: Survival of the Fittest

AUTHOR: Susan Zell

DISCLAIMER: All characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" series are the property of John Landis, Over the Hill Gang, New Line Television, etc. etc. All I know is that it isn't mine. No profit has been made by this venture.

SUMMARY: A day of hunting becomes a struggle for life and death for the explorers when they are stalked by a pride of sabertooths. The story will be updated weekly.

SPOILERS: The story takes place in the first season. Therefore, Summerlee is still alive and well and much beloved, while Marguerite remains an enigma and a bit of irritant to the rest of the explorers.

RATINGS: PG-13

TYPE: Action Adventure mainly and some minor hurt/comfort; also some 'shipping.

WARNINGS: You know the drill. There are injuries, mild cursing, blood...in other words the usual for me. Also, this story is mostly unbetaed. My apologies in advance for any mistakes.

AUTHOR'S NOTES Though this is mainly an action/adventure story, it is also a Veronica/Ned story as well as a Roxton/Marguerite story. I decided to dabble a bit with both relationships for a change. Though when I have big kitties to play with it's hard to stay focused on kissing. Kitties with sharp knives! rubs hands together gleefully Oh happy day! Look out Roxton!

****

****

**SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST**

by _Susan Zell_

CHAPTER ONE

_"A Fresh Sign of Game"_

Lord John Roxton slipped through the waist high grass, concentrating on every nuance of the plateau. It moved and spoke and reveled all around him. It took great patience to differentiate what was background noise and what was vital to one's survival. Rising slightly above the tall grassy field he was in, he took stock of what was around him, noting the positions of his two companions as they paralleled him.

Ned Malone, the young American journalist, was on his right, sandy haired and impetuous as hell. The lad had come seeking adventure and had found more than he bargained for on this dinosaur-infested plateau. Malone was not prepared for the savagery of this new world, but there was promise in him. The more seasoned explorers nurtured it daily. The hunter noticed quickly where Malone's attention was presently, and he glanced over to the woman who walked on his left flank.

Veronica Layton emerged from the brush, her bronzed face stern and her long blonde hair blazing in the afternoon sun. She was an example in absolute concentration and stealth. Despite her close proximity, even Roxton had difficulty making out her footfalls. Her parents were part of an earlier expedition that had been stranded here. They were gone, missing over eleven years now, but their young daughter had somehow survived without them and had grown up wise to the ways of this bizarre and mystical land.

They all lived high in the treetops, safe from even the tallest dinosaur. Her parents had built the wondrous treehouse many years before their disappearance. If it hadn't been for Veronica's timely intervention and gracious invitation, the Challenger party would have been a meal for a dinosaur a long time ago.

Theirs had been a small expedition thanks to the balloon that had carried them up into the storming clouds above the South American plateau. But when they had crashed upon this new and dangerous world, they had quickly learned it was like no other. Thankfully they had all lent some contribution to their continued survival. Led by the genius of Professor George Challenger, the visionary that had discovered this lost world, he used his incredible grasp of science to fashion a slice of the modern world in this barbaric jungle; then there was the mysterious and sometimes self centered heiress, Marguerite Krux who had an incredible if not impossible flair for languages that had proven useful on countless occasions. Professor Arthur Summerlee was the voice of reason in a world gone mad; Ned Malone of the International Herald Tribune chronicled their adventures so that someday someone might know what had happened to them if they ever escaped from the plateau; and Roxton's own hunting skills provided them with fresh game and ample protection.

Together the small band had become almost a family as they eked out an existence in the wilds of the Lost World, each one working with the other to keep them alive. After so many long months of living together, small relationships were beginning to form. Like Malone and Veronica.

Malone caught notice of Roxton's bemused gaze and quickly brought his attention back to the hunt instead of the stunning woman with them. Roxton chuckled.

And while Malone and Veronica tentatively danced about each other, Roxton had found his own partner in the ritual of courtship. The mysterious, raven-haired woman had provided full funding for Challenger's expedition with the sole provision that she come along. And Roxton was very glad she did, not just because he found Marguerite incredibly attractive and exciting, but also, despite her conniving and sometimes overly selfish motivations, it was her instinct for self preservation that had often seen them through many a hairy moment. Though to be truthful, he wasn't looking forward to her irritation when they came home without supper again. They had been living off fruits and nuts for too long now. Still, it was best not to put off the inevitable, perhaps with any luck they'd find something palatable on the way home.

A surge of regret welled up within Roxton. He had argued with Marguerite right before this hunting expedition. Poor timing actually since he had hoped to have her accompany him. Instead, she had declared she'd rather remain at the camp with the professors and tolerate their mad experiments and convoluted digressions of evolution than tromp through the hot jungle with the likes of him.

It had been such a stupid argument too. One they had had many times before. As always he had bristled at her apparent lack of concern about their predicament. She seemed more interested in foolish baubles and excessive riches than about the matter of simple survival. He had denied her an opportunity to acquire a new gem and she had reacted hotly to his order, throwing a stinging barbed comment his way. They had been fleeing from cannibals, for heaven's sake. And she had wanted to risk all their lives with her self-centered dawdling.

Even now, his blood burned at the thought of her callousness regarding the safety of the entire party. He had lashed out verbally in front of the group. In truth, he knew he should have confronted her in private, away from the scrutiny of the rest of the explorers, but his outrage had consumed him. These people were under his protection, all of them, including her, though she announced often she had no need of it.

She had not forgiven him obviously for his bluntness in front of everyone. He sighed wearily. There was something about the mysterious Miss Krux that begged him to delve deeper into her mystery. There must be some reason why she acted the way she did. He had been witness often to her small acts of caring and affection when she thought no one was looking. She had a compassionate side. So why this obsession with riches? Why risk lives especially her own to acquire them?

There was no logic that he could foresee, only more questions. And he wasn't likely to attain any answers when he continued to anger her. Her salvation was a task he had undertaken. He was determined to find out for himself what coveted secrets she held away from them all. That he swore as he pulled his damp shirt from his chest.

The small hunting party had traveled farther out than necessary because the hunting had been abominable so far. This particular area was known for its plentiful game though they had yet to find fresh sign of a meal all day, and the setting sun meant that they were running out of time. Any fresh meat would have been a welcome addition to their fare. However, hunting was now at an end and it was best to head back to camp before night came.

The merciless sun was strong and without a wind it made the sweat on their bodies cling to them with no chance of relief. It hadn't rained in weeks and the plateau was on the verge of a drought. Roxton paused a moment to pull his flask and take a long draught of water. His eyes darted across the small savannah they were crossing. They had stood at its border for almost fifteen minutes gauging the hazard of venturing forward over such open ground. Usually they preferred keeping to the jungle where they could avoid being trapped by large predators like the massive carnivore T-rex, but it was either this shortcut or a long draining climb over a range of mountains. They had crossed this small expanse on the journey into the far hunting grounds without incident. Roxton hoped for the same good fortune on the way back.

A gleam of bright light caught his eye on the ground in the dry dust where some large herbivore had tromped through days ago causing a momentary break in the high grass. Crouching down, he pushed the grasses aside and revealed a rough green stone, unruly and uncut, barely noticeable beneath the deposits of sulfide cocooned around it. Maybe it wasn't anything but he pocketed it nonetheless. It might please Marguerite, or at least make her forget her empty belly when they returned empty handed, and forgive him his brash criticizing.

It was then he noticed something else right beside where the stone had lain. The tracks of a Sabertooth.

The animal had been in a walking trot, conserving energy. It had passed by recently. Very recently.

Roxton rose out of his crouch and whistled sharply to the two people just ahead of him. They both turned around. Malone regarded him curiously while Veronica had just sensed something was wrong. Roxton's stance was not at ease. Malone came to the same realization a moment later and hefted his rifle more securely.

"Sabertooth. Fresh track."

Veronica's eyes widened and then quickly narrowed as she took stock of their surroundings, not at all liking the fact that they were too far from the safety of the high jungle branches. They were literally out in the open and quite vulnerable.

"How many?" she asked tersely.

"One set of tracks, possibly female." Roxton shook his head. He knew what it meant and it wasn't good. The reason they hadn't found any game was the fact that a pride of sabertooths were in the area.

"They hunt in packs, right?" Malone inquired, trying to remember all the information he had learned about this place and its prehistoric inhabitants.

"Yes, like your African lion," offered Veronica.

"Which means," Roxton noted, "there's a chance we haven't stumbled across a solitary young male, but more likely a hunting party of females."

"What are they hunting?" Malone dreaded the answer.

"Us," replied Roxton matter-of-factly.

tbc


	2. Higher Ground

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By _Susan Zell_

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO

"_Higher Ground"_

Marguerite Krux stamped her foot to shake off an annoying large bug crawling on her boot. It fell to the grass and immediately made for safer ground. The heiress snarled at it and then adjusted her grip on the plant she was holding for Professor Arthur Summerlee.

"How much longer?" she demanded as she shook the little tree impatiently while glancing at rotund little man below her.

The elderly man squatting in the grass beside her looked up in alarm and held the tree steady. "Try not to traumatize the specimen, my dear. It is very delicate. It will be just another moment or two before we can lift it up."

The woman sighed and ceased her attempts to rip it from the ground a tad faster than the professor could dig. His skill with a spade left a great deal to be desired. Roxton would have had this tree up and wrapped in burlap over an hour ago. Straight away she burned that she had any thoughts of him at all, much less a kind one, after what he pulled.

That she was furious with was an understatement. He had gone too far this time, chastising her in front of everyone. What gall the man had? Living in close quarters for almost a year did not give him the right to pass judgment on her. She had not endangered the whole company, only herself. It was their own foolish sense of honor that had stopped the lot of them. She hadn't asked for Roxton to come back after her, nor the rest of the group to stop and wait. But damn the man for his sense of decency and damn the rest for thinking that meant for everyone to stop and help.

No one in her life had ever stopped to wonder what scheming she was up to. And she had liked it that way. She was free to do whatever she pleased. No one thought of her and she thought of no one but herself. But with these people, it was all for one and one for all. It was ridiculous and put her in a very bad position.

She regarded the small, white-haired man at her feet. Her anger faded. Professor Arthur Summerlee could no more leave a woman in danger, than he could dig any faster with his little spade. It was just the way he was and she should have remembered that before she had thought about the jewel. There wasn't one of them in this little band that would leave her to her own fate.

And she had best come to terms with it somehow.

The trouble was she knew what she had to do and she wasn't sure she was ready for it. At some point, for the good of everyone, she would have to think about more than just herself and her mission here. Her actions held consequence for all, not just herself. She'd have to open herself up.

And therein lay the danger. If she opened her heart even once, even for the likes of sweet, sweet Summerlee, she would be defenseless. Where one would enter so would others. And in her heart, she knew who would be next in line. That thought terrified her. She didn't need this, not one bit! What could she accomplish with a man like Roxton watching her, never letting her out of his sight? And how much could her defenses take against a man whose soul and sense of honor burned brighter than the sun? Eventually, she would be overwhelmed.

She had to open her eyes and her heart to this matter. Perhaps if she accepted the fact that they cared what happened to her and acted accordingly, she could stand fast against their affections. If she understood and knew what it was that drove them to their mad acts of protection she could work to avoid them and yet still be efficient in her mission. She had to be, otherwise her future was as blank and nameless as it was at this moment. She had opportunity here, not just with finding her past but her future as well.

But to care about these people wasn't conducive to her plans. It would work against her, and she knew it. Yet she needed them. That she had to admit to herself. This world was far more savage than she had thought. They had told her, true, but a small part of her had not believed them. Or at least she believed that she could control the situation. How wrong she had been.

Professor George Challenger approached dispersing her thoughts. He looked remarkably pleased with himself as he carried a large potted fern. Great, she thought, more stuff to carry back to the treehouse. She glanced over at the multitudes of samples that lay crowded around the camp from this impromptu excursion.

For an instant she regretted not going with Roxton and the rest to scout for food. It would have been far less work, she surmised. All they were doing were walking around and shooting at things. That appealed to her far more than she would admit. But it was the amount of walking and whom she would be walking with that deterred her on that front. The three people who held grudges the longest.

After all, Veronica still hadn't forgiven her for that whole Jacobi thing when they had first arrived. She would have made a beautiful bride, and besides, she could have come with them after Jacobi had given them the route off the plateau. It's not like she would have had to stay and be a wife to that fat chief. And Malone always sided with the huntress with his puppy dog eyes, weak man that he was. And Roxton...Roxton... She shook her head. He would just batter at her defenses with the sweet hand of friendship and compassion, constantly attempting to get her to open up.

No, sitting with the harmless professors, who were very easily distracted from such emotional matters, was the safer bet. They never seemed to hold a grudge, so long as you pulled your weight. Or pulled up a tree as the case may be.

She wiggled the tree a bit more while Summerlee was talking to Challenger about the new arrival, a bouncing baby fern. Apparently it was old and extinct. Hmmm, she bit her lip and refused to make any kind of analogy. It was far too easy.

No, she was definitely better off here with the professors than with the others.

* * *

"Stay together," commanded the lithe huntress as she pulled her knife from its sheath. It came free with a small hiss of metal against metal. Sabertooths generally went after game that was injured or old or in their case low in number. With only three members to their party, they weren't much of a threat, but she hoped that by staying close together it would also offer them the illusion of being a larger foe than before.

The bolt on Roxton's rifle slid backward and then forward, placing a bullet in the chamber. He knew that the great beasts could burst forth from the tall grass at any given moment; there would be little time to aim much less prime his weapon before the slashing claws and teeth would be upon them. He was relieved when he heard Malone do the same on his weapon.

Malone's gut was in knots. This kind of adventure did not hold the same allure as those depicted in the hundreds of pennydreadfuls he had read back in London. Where once he wished to be holding back an army of pirates with a single bare blade, defending the honor of some blonde damsel, now he only wished to have a heavy cannon at his command. Sadly, it would be more likely that the blonde beauty beside him would protect him.

He was bound to perish in this hellish place. He was no adventurer. Just like Roxton's older brother, the quiet learned one. It had been in all the society papers, how he had met his demise on the Dark Continent.

John Roxton was a reluctant lord who held a title that should never have been his. While trying to push his elder, but more hesitant sibling William into a life of adventure, a tragic accident occurred. On safari in Africa, when a great ape attacked his brother, John Roxton shot the beast, but the bullet crashed through the ape and also claimed the life of William. To this day Roxton remained wracked by tragedy and grief, always searching for some sort of peace in battle or in death.

Malone had no doubt that he would suffer from the same terrible fate one day. He could only imagine what the papers would say about him. And how would Gladys take the news? With wracking sobs perhaps for her lost love? Or with pride that her Neddy had finally found his adventure and perished heroically? Probably neither. No one would ever know that he was about to be eaten by a million year old cat.

Not really heroic at all come to think of it.

"What's the quickest way out of here, Veronica?" Roxton abruptly demanded.

The young woman pointed directly east toward the far base of the mountain. "If we could make it to those hills, it would give us a better advantage."

Roxton nodded. The ground was open with a great deal of visibility and they'd have the benefit of having a hill at their backs. It was defensible position. "Move," he commanded. "Quickly."

With any luck the pride was after something else in the lowland and they would hardly give the three humans a glance. But it was too quiet. No large herbivores grazed in the distance. They were all alone out here it seemed.

Roxton kept his eyes trained on the grass trying to discern movement where there shouldn't be, all the while steadily following after the two younger members of their party. He spoke to them quietly while they moved, instructing them on how to survive.

"If they rush, it will be fast. They've already selected one of us as their target and they'll concentrate on that prey. Fire as soon as you target one, don't let them near us, otherwise it'll be close quarter fighting, and our pistols will be pea shooters unless you manage to shoot them directly into the heart or the head. Veronica, you stay between us."

He wasn't being gallant, the huntress knew. Her simple knife would be almost ineffectual until in close quarters, which is what they wanted to avoid. She could throw it with unerring accuracy but once thrown it would be lost to her and that would be bad since there were other sabertooths waiting in the wings. No, it was best to rely on the two men, help be their eyes and hope their aim was true.

Their movement through the grass seemed loud and raucous. The sabertooths would have no trouble tracking their prey. The ambush could come at any moment; the beasts would soon realize that their meal was heading for the high ground and they would attack long before that.

"Check your rounds," commanded Roxton of Malone.

"Five in the rifle. Three in my belt," answered Malone, his eyes darting every where but saw nothing except a tranquil plain. It didn't reassure him. "Pistol is fully loaded."

"I've got about that and another round at my belt."

"How many lions to a pack usually?" Malone wanted to know how many they were up against.

"More than you want to know. Anywhere from one to thirty in a pride."

"Great."

"Just stay sharp, Neddy boy, and keep your eyes and ears open."

Veronica spied a sudden shift in the grass and all she had time to do was shout out a warning before the great toothed cat lunged out of the high grass no more than three yards from them.

tbc


	3. Fresh Blood

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER THREE

_"First Blood"_

Roxton's rifle was nearest and swung around with deadly accuracy. The shot took the sabertooth in the chest and slammed it to the side. It ploughed into the grass and slid to a stop six feet from Veronica's deer hide boots.

The air was suddenly filled with the hunting roars of three more of the beasts, coming from three different sides. Malone fired and the nearest big cat stumbled, jerking wildly, screaming in pain. It darted off into the brush.

Another crack echoed in his ear as Roxton fired at another. A bullet caught the beast in mid air as it lunged at Veronica.

She managed to avoid the limp body as it fell toward her, slashing out with her knife just in case.

She heard Roxton's warning cry as another shot from Malone missed the third prehistoric creature. Roxton barely had time to switch targets and slam home the bolt. The cat barreled toward him, it was almost the height of Roxton at its shoulders. Wide claws were extended and ready to rip into him. Roxton didn't flinch; he stood steady as stone against the charge and fired directly into the animal's face. A shorn off mandible flew into the air, indicating a headshot. Roxton tried to get out of the way as the beast fell to the ground and rolled madly toward him carried by its momentum. Veronica grabbed his arm and yanked him aside.

Even though, it caught him a glancing blow on the hip and the two went down in a tangle with the limp cat. Roxton lost his grip on the rifle. The sharp ache in the lower half of his body dulled his wits as he attempted to shake off the effects. His brain was screaming at him that the rest of the pride would take the advantage.

"Stand ready," he yelled at Malone who was the only one still upright.

The lad clenched his jaw. He understood Roxton's alarm. He was all that stood between them and an attack. Veronica was just gaining her feet. Malone couldn't tell if Roxton was all right. The amount of tension in the hunter's voice as he shouted to him sounded laced with great pain.

Then the grass parted and another huge beast erupted from the grass right in front of him. It's giant canines spread wide, it reached out with its long powerful forearm and was about to lend a killing blow when Malone shot it. It fell to the side dead.

Roxton gained his feet stiffly, his rifle once more in his hands. He nodded sharply to Malone. "Keep moving and reload."

"What do you think?" queried Veronica as she rose with her bloody knife, blonde hair falling a bit over her face, eyes darting about for more signs of the pride.

Malone stared amazed at the lithe huntress. Her physical appearance seemed more suited to a English ballroom filled with adoring suitors, until one saw her like this, smeared with blood, blue eyes flashing harshly and a deadly knife gripped in a muscular arm. His apprehension about his chances, both in staying alive and wooing this woman only gained momentum.

Roxton shifted painfully from foot to foot as he tried to work out the pain and growing stiffness in his left leg. It was bearable which meant nothing was broken, thank heaven, but there was a smear of blood on his thigh. He cursed silently. It would only make the beasts more determined than ever. "We might have given them a good turn, enough to make them think twice about wanting us for a meal. But, based on the lack of game we've seen over the last few days, I'd say the beasts are starving." He pointed quickly with the nose of his rifle as they walked past one of the carcasses. "You can see the ribs beneath the coat."

"You mean, we're the best thing to come along in days," Malone noted with despair.

"Afraid so. They'll attack again." Bloodied or not, Roxton knew, the cats were not about to let their prey escape.

The small troop moved on. Heart drilling minutes went by as they approached ever nearer to the hill. If only they could get the mount at their backs, they could concentrate all their firepower forward against the sabertooth pride. Then they would have a chance.

At least until their ammunition ran out. Roxton hated leaving the casings behind, but they didn't have much of a choice. These bullets they were using were some of the last of the better supply. Most of the remaining bullets had been reloaded over and over again. It was the only way to make their supply last in this savage world where nine times out of ten it was a fight to the death. But it wore on the casings. Most of them had hairline cracks and he half expected the ammo to jam in the rifle or just blow up in their faces.

The warmth of his blood dripping down the length of his thigh ended the hope that perhaps the smear of blood had been the big cat's instead of his own. He tried quickly to gauge how bad the wound was by the steady flow. He knew he should stop and tie a tourniquet around it but it would make little difference in the long run if they could not reach safety.

They had almost arrived at the hill, and for a brief moment, the small group thought they might make it. But then the half starved beasts attacked again, this time in unison.

* * *

Marguerite was fixing the evening meal while the professors checked their new specimens. It was a bit early for such a meal. In her society days, she wouldn't have eaten dinner till practically eight. To eat any earlier appeared uncouth. But it had been a long day of labor and the professors always seemed in better moods when they ate around five o'clock. And above all, Marguerite wanted to keep them in a good mood.

There wasn't much of a meal, mainly vegetables, no meat, but that was easier to digest than most of the meat around here anyway. She had fixed a fair amount of food, fully expecting the others to return by now. But of course, they were nowhere to be found.

Professor Summerlee came and squatted beside her. He gestured to the roasting rack. "May I?"

He smiled so kindly that immediately Marguerite warmed and nodded. "I'm afraid I'm not as good as you in the seasoning department. It's probably very bland."

Summerlee lifted one of the skewers of vegetables to sample one on the end. He had the good graces not to grimace. It needed quite a bit of spices actually in order to be palatable. "Well, that we can remedy," he assured her gently.

Marguerite was genuinely grateful. And suggestions from Professor Summerlee never seemed to be mocking and hurtful. He always wanted to help and he offered his assistance so good naturedly and without an ounce of disdain for her inabilities that she relished his intrusions.

She helped him pull his backpack over and open it. Digging inside, he pulled a small leather satchel.

"Your medicinal herbs?" Marguerite eyed him worriedly.

"Like most good herbs, they serve a variety of functions. You'd be surprised what a little bergamot can do to a pot of vegetables." His face crinkled into a wonderfully devious expression that Marguerite couldn't help but laugh. As he broke apart the dried herb, the wonderful scent of orange wafted up. He began a complex blend of various pouches and sprinkled it over the meal. The fire beneath sizzled and snapped at the excess.

"That's a tad spicy," she warned.

"It's good for the blood flow," he said. "A small pinch of cayenne pepper can restart a heart, you know."

"You are a veritable fountain of useful information." She watched as he put another hefty pinch of the spice over the roasting vegetables.

"That and a bit more salt and I think we'll have quite a delicious meal on our hands. You are a godsend in this place, my dear."

Marguerite couldn't help the pleased blush that rose in her cheeks even thought she knew plainly that it had been Summerlee's assistance that had made the difference. But bless him he never once demanded recognition. He always gave such accolades to everyone else.

She leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

He made to put his satchel away but Marguerite stayed his hand. "Would you mind if we left it out? Perhaps after we have eaten we can season the leftovers again." She had a very wicked look in her eye.

Summerlee chuckled. "You're not still mad at Roxton, are you?"

Marguerite grinned. "Of course, not. But if they're going to be late for dinner, there is a price to pay. I was looking forward to roasted fowl this evening. They are the ones fumbling on this one, not I."

"I happen to like vegetables," the elderly man noted.

"You and Veronica both." She shook her head. "I, on the other hand, prefer a little bit more sustenance in my diet."

Summerlee chuckled and shook his head at her, but to her delight he left the satchel out. Marguerite gazed up into the night sky. She wondered for the hundredth time where the Roxton and the others were. Probably eating some delicious roast chicken right now. She hoped the hunter choked on it.

tbc


	4. A Deadly March

_A/N: My apologies for my tardiness in posting the next chapter. Real Life just got in the way again. I will still post the next chapter over the weekend, so at least the bright side is that you won't have to wait as long to find out what happens next. Thanks for understanding._

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER FOUR

_"A Deadly March"_

Five of the beasts flushed from the thinning grass. It was only Veronica's sharp eyes that spotted the assault once again.

Roxton and Malone's rifles fired simultaneously and two of the sabertooths dropped. The last three charged on. Both men pulled their bolts back almost in unison and took aim again. Veronica knew that there was no way for them to stop the third. It was up to her. As the two men fired again, she let her knife fly. She aimed for the open chest, afraid to try for a head shot with so small a weapon. The bone might deflect it. All three beasts tumbled to the ground. Two stayed down, but the third scrambled to its feet and came at them again, desperate and maddened with pain and hunger, Veronica's dagger embedded hilt deep in its chest.

It leaped into their midst, claws spread wide. It slashed at Veronica and she fell backward.

"Veronica!"

Malone pulled his own knife from the sheath at his side and threw himself at the back of the beast to distract it and drive it away from the huntress. He drove the knife the full six inches into the hindquarters. It howled and spun back toward its new opponent.

Roxton swung round with his rifle, taking aim, but Malone was in Roxton's line of fire, and for an instant, the hunter hesitated in his shot, his mind casting back to another time, another face.

William.

"Damn it, Malone!" he shouted hoarsely. He jerked the rifle up, knowing the heavy caliber bullet would crash through the beast's flesh and find a home in Malone as well.

Just like before.

Malone just managed to scramble aside as the cat snapped at him with its own dagger like canines. It was not something the great beasts are wont to do since they risk striking bone and breaking their fearsome teeth, but in its crazed state it was willing to try anything. It missed but the slashing forepaw caught the front of Malone's shirt and shredded it.

"Get back, Malone!" cried Roxton as he stepped to the beast's side and fired his revolver, all six rounds into the heart. The booming echo of his Webley rang across the valley. The sabertooth shuddered and fell just as it was lunging one last time for the young reporter. Its great head flopped to the ground, its massive canines, each seventeen cm long drove into the dirt on either side of his booted foot.

Veronica scrambled to assist him while Roxton quickly reloaded and spun around to check for more attackers. To his great relief, there was none. Veronica struggled to pull up the sabertooth's massive head and Malone slid his aching foot free.

"You all right?" Roxton queried, his heart drilling against his chest.

An emotion Malone had rarely seen flitted across the hunter's face. "Just bruised, like the rest of us." he replied. Roxton merely nodded and turned away again, facing the grass. It was odd to see Roxton waste so many bullets like that. It was almost as if it had been an act of fear. He hadn't seen Roxton react so dramatically since that time on river with the monkeys before they arrived at the base of the plateau.

Veronica fingered aside the remains of Malone's shirt. "That was close." Her blue eyes held a great deal of worry.

Malone's breath caught a little as her fingers slid over his chest looking for wounds. His fair skin colored slightly. "I'm fine. Missed me by a mile," he jested, anxious to relieve her anxiety. Still, it thrilled him to see that emotion present for him. She hadn't reacted so when Roxton almost fell beneath the sabertooth.

She pulled his shirt back and noticed the faint line of scratches that were just now beginning to ooze a darker red. "Sure," she said quietly. But the wounds were far from serious and for that she was elated. Once again, the young reporter had escaped death by a hair's breadth.

"Let's get moving, people," Roxton instructed sharply. "We may not yet be in the clear."

Malone groaned as Veronica helped him to his feet. He experimentally tested his weight on the ankle and then nodded. "It smarts but it's functional."

"Good to hear."

Then they all gathered their weapons and marched on warily to the hillside. Long minutes went by, three pairs of eyes searching desperately for any sign of the cats hunting them. The wind picked up slightly and made it more difficult to discern something stalking through the tall grass. Every wave of the wheat-like stems signaled death but nothing leapt out at them from the concealing grasses. Thirty minutes went by and the finally the hillside was theirs.

They stopped and regrouped, checking ammo and their damage. Roxton and Malone were sore and bruised but thankfully still mobile; ammo was rapidly dwindling. Each waited with their hearts drilling into their chests but the grass yielded no large hungry cats.

"Maybe they gave up," Malone offered.

Neither Roxton nor Veronica commented. The hunter merely bobbed his head toward the jungle. "It's best to keep moving. The jungle will afford us some cover and split their attacks."

"You think they'll follow us?" Malone's expression held only fear.

"I think we're a meal."

"With any luck they'll eat their dead and be satisfied," Veronica added hopefully. "At this stage, they won't be picky."

The ear-shattering roar of a T-Rex split the air close by.

"Unless they have competition." There was now dismay in her tone.

"Those dead cats will be nothing but an appetizer for the likes of him," Malone exclaimed.

The great shadow of the massive reptile spread across the plain as it stepped out of the jungle, sniffing the air like a dog. The small high-pitched cries of distant raptors could be heard as well, while the sky filled with the circling shapes of pterodactyls. The predators had learned to equate the sound of gunfire with a meal. The bloody carcasses already attracted the carnivores and scavengers like ants to a picnic. Nothing was ever wasted on the plateau where the ratio of hunter to meal was beyond measure.

The bulbous head of the king of dinosaurs swiveled about, focusing in on the smell of blood littering the area. With quick bold steps it entered onto the plain and beelined for the first kill. The tremors of its heavy steps could be felt even to the explorers who were fairly distant.

"Great," bemoaned Malone. "There goes our one shot of getting away from the cats. Now they'll still be hungry."

Malone tore his gaze away from the sight of the great dinosaur ripping the carcass of a sabertooth in half, one foot planted on its body while the massive jaw took hold and pulled. It swallowed the hunk of flesh in one swallow and then bent down for the rest.

The reporter's grimace stayed locked in position as he moved closer to the other two and away from the grisly scene. Even from this distance it was grotesque. This place was inundated with such savagery, and even after all this time trapped in its midst, it was no easier to accept.

Roxton stepped towards the distant shadows of the jungle, eager to be away. "Let's move. The farther we are away from here the better. It's over a four hour hike back to the camp.

But Veronica stayed him. "Maybe we should stay here. You're bleeding badly."

"We need to use the T-Rex's presence to get through now. The cats could be scattered. This is our best chance."

"I disagree. Cats aren't easily discouraged, even by a T-Rex. You said it yourself they're starving. They won't be going anywhere. Now that they've been robbed of their dead, they'll be thinking of what else they lost. Mainly us." She gestured bluntly to the blood dripping down his boot and soaking into the ground.

Roxton grimaced in annoyance. There was no denying the logic in her words. But he also knew they could be losing their one opportunity to escape on the chance that perhaps the sabertooths were indeed in a state of confusion. Those few hours could mean they could find a better place from which to protect themselves.

"This is not the best defensible area. We're too open here, even with the hill behind us. We're tired and wounded and we will have a hard time guarding three flanks all night with only a wall at our backs. None of us will be able to sleep."

"We'll manage."

"Maybe there is a cave somewhere," offered Malone. "We haven't looked." He was torn between the wisdom in both Veronica and Roxton's words, but he was also tired and aching. He was better at defending than fighting while on the move, even when he was at his best, which he wasn't at the moment.

"We won't have the time to look," Roxton pointed out heatedly. They were wasting valuable time. The T-Rex would finish its meal anytime now and depart, allowing the big cats to regroup. "If we could make the trees..."

"They're too far. We would never reach them. Besides sabertooths climb trees easily. We'll be fighting them off the entire time."

"You don't think we will tomorrow?" Roxton's frustration was making his words curt and sharp.

"Yes, but at least we'll be fresh and maybe stand a chance against them," Veronica retorted.

Malone stepped in between them. "We need to make a decision now. One way or the other."

Roxton sighed and relented. He'd bow to Veronica's will on this. This was her home. She knew it best. Besides, his leg was really beginning to ache. Shifting from leg to leg was quickly becoming problematic. "Let's start looking for that cave of Malone's."

Veronica's apprehensive expression eased, grateful that she didn't have to argue anymore. It was not something she was used to. When she had invited the explorers into her home, she had had to learn quickly how to work within a group. It was still an adjustment, especially with those whose wills were as strong as Roxton's. She nodded at the hunter. He was in terrible pain and it was finally visible on his face. Exhaustion was taking its toll on them all. They needed shelter and fast. She tugged off her knife belt and tied it above his wound. She would not be putting away her weapon for quite a while anyway. It was more important to staunch the flow of blood. Roxton gave a sharp gasp at the pain it caused but he didn't complain. A tourniquet was definitely needed.

During which orders fell from Veronica's lips as if she was a general on a battlefield. "Malone, you go left. I'll go right. Scan the hill. Look for indentations and shadows. Even just a small corner cliff will give us protected flanks."

Roxton made a motion to object. He was the better candidate than Malone for seeking out a good defendable position. But Veronica stopped him with a look. His leg wouldn't allow him to cover the necessary ground. He bowed his head. "I'll stay here. Look for cats," he relented.

She smiled thinly at him. That was two fights he had conceded. He must really be hurting. Either that or he trusted her judgment implicitly. Both were viable. Though one was more worrisome than the other. "We'll hurry."

Roxton nodded and then the two young people were off to search. Malone was still limping slightly but at least the reporter was more mobile than him at the moment.

He turned his back to the hill and scanned the grassy edge. It had ended twenty feet from the hill allowing him a clear view. The cats had lost their element of surprise for the moment. They may be disoriented by their failure and the arrival of their competition, but it did not mean that they would not try again. Right now they were regrouping and their pitifully empty bellies were gnawing at them, just as Roxton's was currently reminding him that a full grown man could live for only so long on dried nuts and berries.

The sabertooths would lurk for a time around the blood smears of their fallen brethren, but eventually they would pick up his blood trail and find them at the hill.

It was practically dusk now. There was no way to signal the others from the top of the hill. That would have to wait until tomorrow. Though he dreaded bringing Challenger, Summerlee and Marguerite into this affair. He did not want to risk their lives as well for only three extra guns, which were all low on ammunition already.

Under normal circumstances he would not be so worried about sabertooths. They were dangerous but no more so than their lion cousins and he had lived with them for years in Africa, as well as tigers in Asia and jaguars in South America. But this drought had changed the ecological balance of the plateau. It had changed the normal habits of all the game in the area. Previous knowledge meant little all of a sudden as these bizarre creatures mutated once again. They were all on a new learning curve.

Which is why he had consented to Veronica's wisdom. She alone knew these prehistoric animals. With the amount of time spent on the plateau, she must have experienced a drought before and seen firsthand how it altered the normal behaviors of its denizens, far faster perhaps than it would the denizens of the natural world off the plateau. Roxton had to admit he was a novice here.

He was never a man who was foolish enough to believe that he had all the answers. Bombastic he was not. He had known men like that. Men who could rationalize anything, even tragedy and twist it into a mockery. Fingers turned bloodless as his grip on his rifle tightened. Anger and memories flooded him.

Only one man made his blood boil like it was now. Roxton knew his mind had dredged him up because of Malone stepping in front of his shot out on the plain. Instantly he had been transported to the past. Sometimes it was just a simple thing that flung him back and other times, like today hit him with the force of a charging elephant. Would he never be free of this pain? Years had passed and yet it was always as fresh as the day William had died and Pearson Rice had stood and crowed.

Roxton felt only shame that he had once admired the man and wanted to be like him. Now that memory only kept him humble and out of the spotlight. He was happier here were none knew or even cared about his past. Surely most of the explorers had heard the tale and yet not one had ever brought it up. And for that he was grateful.

A snap of twigs brought his attention round and his gun barrel back up where it had slipped to the ground due to his exhaustion and wandering thoughts. He cursed his lax while glassy eyes studied the area before him, his ears straining for any hint of an attacker in the darkening surroundings.

But there was nothing. He calmed his breathing and unclenched his muscles that all too willingly complied. There was a tremble in his arms that shouldn't be there. His thigh throbbed with an ache that he felt clear through to the bone. The tourniquet was so tight he could feel the ache throb in time with his heartbeat.

Lord, he wanted to sit down and rest. Already Veronica's words were becoming accurate. He doubted he would have gotten far, weakened as he was. They would have had to stop on open ground with no protection. He cursed his arrogance. His bullheadedness would have gotten them all killed. It was an amateur's mistake and it angered and shamed him.

Veronica suddenly appeared beside him and he started, so silent was her approach. She grabbed his arm to steady him as he reared back, putting weight on his injured leg and then bobbling alarmingly. Bless her she said nothing save one statement.

"We found a place. This way."

Roxton could only nod and follow her. They found Malone waiting for them near a vertical cliff wall. It was a U-shape, which afforded them protection on three sides. The walls were high enough and long enough to form a nice niche. Malone or Veronica must have had to circumvent the entire hill in order to meet up as they had. How long had he been standing there, lost in thought? It was a sure sign that he was losing too much blood. Time and reality were becoming blurred entities.

Malone was already hacking large thorn bushes complete with four inch barbs to form a _zareba_ around the opening of the niche. The improvised stockade would help form a barrier to distract and dissuade anything from coming too close without their knowledge. It was one of the first things Roxton had taught Malone how to make once they left civilizations. The hunter had made many of them in Africa. That along with a fire burning brightly in the middle would afford them a nice shelter for the night.

"Well done," he offered to Malone and Veronica.

"Sit here." She gestured to a place padded with dry leaves against the cliff wall. "Rest. We'll finish the barrier." Turning to go, she paused and looked back with worry written on her face. "Loosen the tourniquet for a few minutes. I'll tie it back tight when I return."

Roxton smiled weakly at her and complied. Veronica had saved their lives once again. He would not doubt her judgment again. With bloodied hands and unruly fingers he untied the tourniquet but couldn't stop the gasp of pain as blood rushed into veins that had held but a trickle before. Blood gushed from his wound.

His hand went to staunch it but it wasn't stopped so easily. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he waded it up and stuffed it in the wound. Breathing harshly and wiping the cold sweat from his flushed face with his sleeve, he composed himself. He still wasn't sure what he had collided with, but it was time to take a look. Ripping his pants open, and removing the already sodden handkerchief, he spied two long rips in his flesh, both about three inches in length. It appeared that the dying beast had managed to hook him with its claws before expiring. What unlucky bastards, they both were, Roxton thought solemnly. It was clear that the wounds would need stitches, if not cauterizing before the bleeding would stop.

He wasn't looking forward to that. Thankfully, Arthur Summerlee had showed them most of what he knew. And Veronica had already garnered some at the hands of the Zanga and a dozen other natives.

Summerlee was a gentle soul whose knowledge of botany and medicinal plants had greatly upped their survival rate. Roxton was thankful for his presence every day they lived on this plateau. He didn't know what they would have done without him. His insistence that they concentrate on medicinal things in addition to Challenger's experiments and Marguerite's fortune hunting was the very reason they all stood here today. He was as focused on the group's survival as Roxton was and that made them kindred spirits.

He could imagine the old man's annoyed frown as he noted what a mess the hunter had gotten them all into this time.

"I could use your help advice right now, my friend," Roxton whispered.

Tbc


	5. Choices

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER FIVE

_"Choices"_

Malone couldn't help but stare into the approaching darkness as the light faded from the sky. The night seemed to swell around them. Part of him was comforted by it and the rest of him was terrified by it, because he could not tell where the enemy was hiding. His rifle was at his side as he tugged along another of the thorny bushes toward the cliff. Veronica was hacking her way through another section, her knife rising and falling with a fervid rhythm. They were running out of time. At any moment, the sabertooths could converge on them. If they were to hold their ground here, then they needed protection.

Malone found it hard to believe that some thorny bushes could hold off these cats, but Veronica had explained that cats don't like complicated matters. It was a matter of making them work that much harder for a meal. It wasted their reserves of strength and sometimes, just sometimes, the cats would weigh one against the other and decide on conserving their energy for simpler prey. That was their only chance now. The fact that the big cats were starving didn't play well in their favor, but she had to hope that they were getting weaker, enough so that they were too exhausted to rush the barrier and the fire.

So much to consider just for a few hours time. So much to learn about just surviving. Everything here was about the difference between living and dying. Rarely was anything simple. There was no quick taxi ride from the hotel to the theater. No pondering of a delicious menu. Here it a journey, complete with weapons, provisions, equipment and complex knowledge of what they could come up against at any given moment. It was like having an adrenalin rush twenty four hours a day. How long could someone keep that up without making a mistake?

But then he saw the woman before him, determined and forceful. She had lived here twenty years and survived. Could she do it another twenty? And then another? Could he?

He reached for another tangle of bramble. "God, what I wouldn't give to be sitting in a café in London drinking a tonic right about now."

She paused a moment in her hacking and then continued on. "Right now, me too."

"Really?" He was so surprised he stopped his dragging. "You'd come to London?"

Veronica sighed. Leave it to Ned Malone to _take_ that out of context. "No, I meant that I would rather be doing anything mundane than fighting off sabertooths all night."

"Oh. I thought--"

"I know what you thought, Malone." She straightened and grabbed a heavy load of thorny excess and proceeded to drag it away. Malone dutifully followed with his own stack.

"I just think you'd like London."

"I'm sure I would."

"Then why won't you even consider--"

"Because I'm needed here. I don't have time to waste sightseeing."

"Maybe it wouldn't just be sightseeing. London might win you over."

She snorted her thoughts on that matter.

It was so frustrating to Malone. She wouldn't even consider the fact that she might like London. Compared to this steamy, danger infested jungle it would seem like Wonderland. He remained silent, fuming at her stubbornness.

A sudden snap of twigs off to his left brought his attention back full focus on surviving again. The two of them hurried back to Roxton with their burden.

* * *

The hunter allowed the blood to flow for a bit down his leg. It was fascinating to watch in a way, with rivulets diverging around the muscles. He tried to clean it as best he could using the limited water from his canteen. Pulling bits of cloth and grass from the wound kept him concentrating for many minutes. So it surprised him slightly when Veronica and Malone crouched beside him, the _zareba_ nearly complete. Malone was starting a fire beside him.

"How bad?" Veronica inquired.

"Bad enough," was the flat reply. "Though by morning, infection could set in. Cat claws are never clean." The hunter was more annoyed by the situation than in pain. He hated being labeled a liability.

Veronica scanned the darkness beyond the _zareba_. "I'll be right back." She rose to her feet.

Malone grabbed her arm. "Where are you going? You're not going out there?"

"Yes, I am. I know what Roxton needs to ward off infection and a fever. It's out there." She pointed into the darkness. "We passed by it when we were scouting."

"I know what else is out there right now. Big hungry cats! This isn't London. You're not running to the nearest pharmacy!"

She frowned at Malone, her brow creasing with annoyance. "That's right, Malone. This isn't London. This is my home. I know what I'm doing here." She shrugged off his hold. "You best get used to it."

She walked to the cliff wall at their backs and started scaling its rocky face. When she was about ten feet up she began crossing horizontally to the left. It wasn't long before the inky night swallowed her form. It made Malone ill to think she was going out there alone. Eventually rock would give way to grass and Veronica would be easy prey.

Malone stood at the _zareba's_ edge with a rifle clutched in his hand, desperately searching for any sign of a sabertooth stalking Veronica.

"Make some noise," suggested Roxton, his head resting against the stone, his brow pinched with pain.

"What?" Malone looked back at the hunter in confusion.

"Keep the cats' attention on us, not her. Let's look appetizing."

"How?"

"Talk. Move around near the _zareba's _edge. Stagger a bit."

"Won't they charge us then?" Malone gripped the rifle tighter.

"Possibly. But wouldn't you rather have them come at us than at Veronica?"

That settled the issue. Malone would do anything to protect Veronica even if it meant risking his own safety. Of course, every time he did that, she became angry. Every time he mentioned London, she became angrier. Actually, most everything of late made her angry. And he didn't know why. Perhaps Roxton knew.

"I don't understand her sometimes. Everything I do seems to make her mad lately."

"You represent change, not always an easy thing to accept."

"Change? You mean taking her to London? You'd think she'd be excited to see some place new. She's never been there."

Roxton grinned sympathetically at the bewildered young man. "I think she wants to go; but she doesn't want to stay."

"I'm not asking her to, but I know that once she saw what she was missing, she'd love it. I mean, the theater, the trains, and restaurants. All the things she's missed all her life."

"She doesn't feel she's missed a thing."

"But she has! This world is so barbaric compared to ours. Can you imagine never having to sleep in fear? Never wondering where your next meal is coming from? Never _being_ the next meal? She's just stubborn, afraid of the unknown."

"Afraid? I wouldn't say that. She's not some wallflower, Ned. She's not Gladys."

Malone cast a hard glare at the hunter. "I know that."

"I'm just saying she wants different things from life. Veronica's not interested in a cozy life. She's content where she is."

"Well, she should just come and look at London. Her heritage is there. It's where her parents were from. You'd think she'd be interested in seeing their home."

"She'd rather see them, in the flesh, safe and sound. She can't do that in London. That would be like admitting they're dead. You're making her choose between you and her parents. Don't go there, Neddy boy. You won't win."

Malone's temper waned. Suddenly he understood a little bit better the force of nature he was attempting to persuade. He had made a serious blunder on that front. He hadn't even thought about the implications he had set up with his innocent statements. What a fool, he was.

"I see what you mean," he admitted to Roxton. "I didn't mean it that way."

"I didn't think you did."

"But you think Veronica might have gotten the wrong impression?"

"It would explain the reaction you got." Roxton bent his head and retightened the tourniquet. His face twisted with pain in conjunction to the hard twists he gave the belt. The bleeding ebbed again. But it drained from his face as well. Malone made a move to come over to him, but the hunter waved him away. "I'm fine. Just stay there and keep looking appetizing." His words came in short, hard pants, but soon evened out. He leaned back against the cool stone again and fought off a shiver, despite the fact that his face was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

"You know I would never mean to imply that her parents were dead. I just wanted to show her London."

"I know that and I think on some level she does too."

"I'm wouldn't try to stop her from coming back," Malone insisted.

He was gamely trying to keep an eye out on the brush and one eye on Roxton who was steadily looking worse. Not to mention trying to get his point across to Roxton. It wasn't often they had these kinds of talks, man to man, about...well....women.

"Of course not." Roxton had his eyes closed and his breathing was slowing, though his hand still clutched his leg in a vain attempt to hold back the agony.

"It would be only a short visit."

Roxton opened an incredulous eye. "It takes months even to get to London. That's no short visit. You're talking a half a year if not more in travel alone. That's if things go smoothly."

Malone looked sheepish. "But don't you think she's missing all the wonderful things we could show her?"

Roxton understood the lad all too well. There was a side of him that wanted to show Marguerite to his family, his friends, and London society in general. What heads would turn at the vision of her on his arm! But he also knew that it was probably the last place a woman like her would want to be seen. There was something incredibly mysterious about Marguerite Krux that defied every stature set down by society. And he had to bow to that fact and put aside his own fantasies. As would Malone.

"It's fleeting and fanciful, Malone," he said out loud. "You wouldn't be able to keep her there and you know it. Her mind would always be here."

Malone hung his head and heaved a great sigh. Of course, he knew it. Somewhere deep in his heart he knew it. But it didn't ease the wanting of her in his world. If only he could just show her a bit of it, maybe she would know what she was missing. He continually wondered what it would be like for her in London, or even in New York City. What would London think of her? What would the world? Would they tout her as jungle princess or as an oddity? And what about Gladys? What would she think? And would he care?

So many questions burned in his mind. He knew he wanted to go back, just in order to see what London thought of Challenger's findings. It was the reporter in him. But would he stay? Or would he be courageous enough to come back to this savage land that always wanted to kill them? Would he be satisfied so long as he was with Veronica?

His heart cried yes! But there were doubts also. Doubts about himself. Like whether he could survive in this land? Whether he was man enough to exist here without Veronica's constant help?

It was a question of his ego. True enough. If he had the fortitude and survival skills of Roxton, it wouldn't be such an issue. But he didn't. It had been almost a year and he still felt as ineffectual as ever. He was a liability more than a help. If something happened to Veronica, God forbid, after the others returned to London, would he ever be able to survive here alone? He was too afraid to even contemplate it right now. But if he was to decide to stay on the Plateau when the others finally found their way off, it was something he would have to eventually consider again someday. He'd have to know whether he could survive out here on his own.

What a complicated mess it all was, he thought.

He scanned the night listening for any sign of Veronica or the sabertooths. What was taking her so long? His gut continued to twist with worry.

Tbc

_A/N: By the way, thanks everyone for reviewing. It means a lot._


	6. Remains

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER SIX

_"Remains"_

"Where the hell are they?" muttered Marguerite as she paced the boundary of their camp. Shadows were creeping across the jungle floor.

Late again, Marguerite griped. This plateau was worse than London traffic on a good day. She knew from experience that time meant little in this godforsaken place, and that any one of a hundred reasons would make Roxton the others late. Of course, eighty percent of them were also highly dangerous reasons.

She exhaled sharply. This was doing nothing for her nerves.

It irritated the heiress to even behave like this, over the likes of Roxton no less. If she were saner, she wouldn't give a second thought to the man, tardy or not. But something was changing inside her, something she had suppressed for many years. Of all the rotten luck for it to happen on this undertaking, she mused.

She turned around and commented to Professor Summerlee who was cleaning the dishes from the evening's meal. "I can't believe they haven't returned."

Professor Summerlee leaned back, holding his pith helmet on with a damp hand. "There's still a bit of light remaining. Don't worry. They'll come."

Slapping her hand against a tree trunk in frustration, she withdrew to the other side of the camp. Professor Challenger was somewhere tying up the various shrubberies in more burlap, apparently unsatisfied about how they were originally done.

She found it odd then that here she was intending to seek out company to ease her annoyance. Another unusual habit for her. She was garnering quite a few of them thanks to her new associates.

Damn them all.

"Challenger," she called out.

There was no answer, which only irritated her more. She knew the man was there. She could see his white jacket from here. No doubt his nose was buried deep into some crazy plant. She couldn't fathom what interest this plateau could hold for anyone, but Challenger thought it was a gold mine. Too bad it hadn't been a gold mine for her. Every stash of riches were either claimed by someone else, and thanks to her new conscientious friends she couldn't steal any of it, or it was protected by some dinosaur or cursed beyond reason.

Lord, she hated this plateau.

"Challenger," she shouted again, this time louder.

"Here," came the mumbled reply.

"Didn't you hear me?" she groused as she approached him.

"Of course, I heard you," he answered. How could one not hear Marguerite Krux? She was most demanding, especially when her patience was at an end. He continued to break off some leaves and shred them, stuffing them into test tubes and jars for examination later.

"Well, a little acknowledgement goes a long way." She squatted on a large protruding root and watched him as he methodically went about picking ingredients for his next experiment. No wonder he had been so eager to help Summerlee gather his botanical specimens. Obviously Challenger had more than a vested interest in some of the varieties.

"You were due to arrive at any moment, Marguerite. I saw no reason to strain my voice, unlike yourself. Our camp is only so big."

Marguerite's long lashes lowered dangerously over her flashing gray eyes.

Challenger wondered if perhaps had made a mistake in baiting the irate young woman. But luckily, she seemed to move past the exchange and onto other matters that bothered her more directly.

"Dusk is almost here and they aren't back yet. Doesn't that concern you just a little?"

"Eventually. But not right now. Roxton and Veronica are both quite capable. I'm sure if they don't make it back this evening, then tomorrow morning surely." He looked up from his planting with a sudden thought. "Do you want to go out looking for them?"

The heiress immediately balked. "What? No, of course not. I hate traipsing about in this blasted hothouse, especially in the dark." But that wasn't the whole truth. A side of Marguerite that had never had a voice before was suddenly insisting that it was exactly the thing to do. That finding out what happened to Roxton, to all of them, would ease the anxiety within her heart. She found it troublesome. When had this happened? When had she started to care for anyone other than herself?

Challenger merely grunted and dropped his head back down to his organizing to hide his grin. Marguerite was certainly a fascinating creature. If his field was more tuned to the human condition than to science, he could certainly make a career out of her mood swings and complex motivations.

"I was merely stating a concern. The jungle's not safe at night." She paused and mused, "Not that it's safe during the day either."

"I'm sure they're fine."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me. You better be right."

"Of course I am. I have the utmost faith in Lord John Roxton. So should you."

She returned his grunt and folded her arms across her chest, casting her gaze aside into the ebony jungle night. Even though the sky was still streaked with light the thick foliage plunged the ground into darkness.

However, thanks to the flickering firelight near Summerlee enough light penetrated the jungle's shroud and illuminated something shiny in the distance. Curiosity now perked the heiress. It was far too small and too near the ground to be a weapon clutched in the hand of an enemy. Unless the guy was completely prone, which more than likely meant he was dead and therefore his possessions were up for grabs.

She never stopped hoping that someone knew the way off this plateau or had intimate knowledge of a cache of riches that she could rightfully claim or gave her a clue to that which she sought most, her past. The means to that answer was here somewhere. Eventually she'd find it, but at the moment its elusiveness irritated her beyond measure. She had thought she would have found it long before now. Instead she was trapped on this ridiculous plateau with nothing to show for it.

She could investigate the flickering light. What would be the harm? But then Roxton's voice echoed in her brain. _Think of the consequences of your actions. Think of more than just yourself for a change._ She glanced over at the two professors sitting quietly oblivious in their camp. Summerlee was far too exhausted to be keeping watch in addition to cleaning the dishes. And Challenger was so absorbed in his ..., well whatever he was doing in order to see danger.

But what if it was something creeping up on them? Someone should investigate. And being the youngest and the smartest, it seemed to fall to her. Her own self survival always made it much more of a priority than either of the two professors who allowed their sciences to dictate precedence. In Marguerite's mind, it stood to reason that if one didn't live long enough to enjoy one's hobbies, what was the point. Survival first, obsessions later. So it fell to her to investigate the shiny thing regardless of whether it was a jewel or not.

Standing abruptly, though not abruptly enough to distract Challenger from his work, she set out into the darkness toward the shiny object. It wasn't too far out and she could always cry out to the professors for help should she need it. Of course, just in case she pulled her pistol from its holster and pointed it forward.

Thick branches and heavy leaves pushed and slapped at her, but she slogged onward aiming for the still flickering reflection on the ground. It hadn't moved so why not look closer. If it were an animal it would be long gone by now or at least springing to attack she was that close. But nothing happened. Even if it were human she was close enough to hear breathing and she didn't hear anything that raised her alarm.

So she continued on. Peering through the last layer of annoying branches she sneaked a peak at what had enticed her. She could see small white objects strewn on the ground, though they didn't appear to be the reflecting culprit. Then the object caught the flickering firelight again and suddenly she noticed them. They were spread over the ground interspersed with the white things. Her curiosity gaining the better of her she stepped out into the small clearing. It was overgrown at the edges but it appeared to be the remnants of an old camp. There were hints of objects like chairs and crates. To her surprise she discovered the white objects were bones. Human bones to boot.

Death had hit this little camp. Most of the bones had all the indications of something chewing on them. Raptors most likely. They seemed to be the culprit of most of the ill doings around here. She poked through the litter of bones and exposed one of the flickering objects.

There were a lot of them dropped all over the place. One of the crates had been broken into and had been strewn all about the ghostly little camp. Obviously the treasure had meant little to whatever had destroyed the camp, if they had even been human. But to Marguerite, this was indeed a treasure.

"Challenger!" she called out. "Come here!"

She gave the man credit. His large frame came forward very quickly, far faster than he would have if he had been taken unawares. He must have been watching her. With his shotgun in hand, he took only minutes to get to her side. It was obvious the professor could tell the difference between something important and something trivial when she called him. He was a great deal more observant than she gave him credit for, keeping an eye on her as she explored.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"A fortune!"

"Marguerite," he sighed in exasperation.

She held up one of the flickering objects between her fingers. "Really, Challenger," she exasperated. "I'm not all about money."

He raised an eyebrow at her and then diverted his attention to the object she held in her hand. "This is a find! What luck!" Then he saw the bones and his bent immediately to examine them. "But what's this?"

"The unfortunate owners. So I don't see any reason why we can't take all this. There's no curse, no angry villagers. It belongs to us now."

Challenger held up a femur bone. "These remains have teeth marks on them."

"Raptors probably."

The bushes parted and Arthur Summerlee appeared. "I say, what's going on?"

"Marguerite has found an old camp."

"Look!" Marguerite exclaimed, displaying her find with pride.

However, Summerlee too was more interested in the bones than in Marguerite's find and crouched beside Challenger to examine the remains of the previous explorers. Marguerite was a bit miffed that they seemed more concerned about the skeletons. They were dead after all. What did it matter anymore? They had been dead for a very long time.

Challenger pointed out smaller gashes that went deep into the bone's exterior. "See here?"

"Raptors. So what else is new?" Marguerite huffed.

"No, not raptors," Summerlee mused. "Cats I would imagine. You can see where they gnawed down to the very marrow. Raptors aren't that particular. They don't waste that kind of energy."

"So, what does it matter? It could have been a T-rex for all I care. We still have the prize, right?" Her hands were full of the little objects, ready for pocketing.

Challenger nodded but he didn't stop examining the bone.

"These poor souls no longer have a need for it," Summerlee agreed.

"This wasn't done recently, was it?" Marguerite inquired in a low whisper so that only Challenger could hear. "Is it significant somehow that they were killed by sabertooths instead of raptors?"

"I'm not sure," Challenger muttered. "But something tells me it should be."

Tbc


	7. Human Nature

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER SEVEN

_"Human Nature"_

A falling rock beside Roxton was the only indication that something was above them. Both rifles swung up, albeit Roxton's a bit slower. It was Veronica descending the same way she had departed.

"Where have you been?" chided Malone, his voice laced with obvious relief. "What took you so long?"

"Easy, Malone," soothed Roxton as he gladly let the rifle drop. He was feeling fairly miserable. It was good that they were all together again. He had been worried that if something had happened Malone would have insisted on going out after her. Which meant of course that he would have to go after both of them and he was in no shape to do that.

"Did you find what you were after?" he asked her as she alighted beside him. She was grimy and tired but her brilliant smile was full of satisfaction. There were also some strange welts on her arms. In fact there were a few spotted all over her.

"Of course." From her pack she pulled another leather satchel.

Malone was crouched beside her and he brushed a hand against one of the strange welts. "They look like...beestings"

"Honey," she announced as she opened the dripping satchel.

"Honey?" queried Roxton. All this for honey? "I'm not that fond of honey," he pointed out. "Not after that whole big bee incident a few months back."

That brought a small chuckle from her lips. "It's not to eat. Well, some of it can be for later. It's good energy food. But for right now--" Her hand dipped into the honey and then came out soaked. She spread it over Roxton's wound.

"Are you mad?" shouted Malone. Roxton sat up and winced as the oozing golden substance entered the gashes.

Roxton panted through the pain and stayed Malone's hand from interfering. He nodded at Veronica. "Smart girl."

Malone looked confused. "We just got it clean."

"This will keep it clean," Veronica insisted. "The Horotu use it all the time."

"The Horotu also sleep on the dirt and sometimes wear mud in their hair," Malone pointed out. "Hygiene isn't that high on their list."

"I'll tell them you pointed that out."

"That's not what I meant."

Roxton butted in. "Honey stops infection, Malone. It's been used in the treatment of wounds for hundreds of years. I should have remembered that."

"You can't think of everything," Veronica said quietly. "Once in a while you have to rely on others."

Malone stood dumbfounded as he watched Veronica smear more of the golden goo onto Roxton. "What about stitching it up?"

"We'll still do it," Veronica told him. "But the sugar in the honey suppresses infection. It will also act as a barrier so no more dirt can get in." Her head bowed, she continued to treat the wound as she educated Malone using her father's words. "There's actually hydrogen peroxide in the honey which is made by the action of an enzyme that the bees add to the nectar. My father discovered this through his botany."

"That's amazing," Malone said softly. He shook his head in wonder.

"You learn ... a new thing ... every day ... in this place, Neddy boy." Roxton huffed through Veronica's ministrations.

The reporter offered a cockeyed smile to the bedraggled hunter. "It seems that way." And if it wasn't about plants and animals, then it was about people in general. Malone was realizing that he knew even less about the latter. People weren't always the way one read about in books. The complexities of human nature couldn't even be scratched by words on paper. It would take volumes to cover it all. He had a lot to learn.

Veronica finally cleaned her hands as best she could and then readied for the next stage. Malone winced as she began working a needle and thread together for the stitching that was to come.

Roxton patted Malone on the shoulder. "Go keep watch."

The younger man hesitated, not wanting to leave Roxton's side during a most difficult trial, but he understood the logic of it. He nodded and rose, and in truth, was secretly relieved. Stitching always made him queasy.

He cast his gaze back upon the dark veil that surrounded them; his attention became half tuned to the suffering of his friend behind him and the ominous sounds of the plateau around them. He swore he could hear the big cats' breathing out in the night. He could feel them out there, waiting and watching. How their stomachs must ache at the thought that wounded prey was so close in their grasp but outsmarting them at every turn. Okay, it wasn't all intelligence that got the explorers this far. It was sheer luck and the big guns they carried.

Guns that were steadily running out of ammunition. Would they make it all the way back to the camp and eventually the treehouse on the limited supply they had? He doubted it. How many did Roxton say was in a pride? Thirty? They were going to cut it close.

Malone couldn't help but think how Veronica would have survived that encounter without Roxton or himself with her. After all, she only carried around a small knife.

Most likely she wouldn't have gotten herself into that situation. She only ate fruits and vegetables that were easily found close to the treehouse. The only reason she accompanied them on their hunting excursions was out of the graciousness of her heart because she knew the rest of the treehouse wanted fresh meat. He sighed dejectedly. She has given up so much of her lifestyle already to accommodate them and here he was trying to make her give up the last remnants of what she held dear, her parents, her home. What a terrific idiot he was.

He glanced back at her. She was finished with the stitching and was proceeding to wrap a clean cloth about Roxton's leg. The man was pale and exhausted, eyes closed. Would he be able to move tomorrow? Knowing Roxton, Malone had no doubt he would try.

Veronica caught him looking at them and she sat back and smiled at him, nodding that everything was okay. Though he knew it was a ridiculous lie, he found himself comforted by it anyway. In the firelight, her blonde hair glistened with red highlights and her eyes flashed with sparks and dancing flames. He turned away embarrassed; he was sure his affection showed clearly in his eyes like a lovesick calf. Heat spread over his cheeks though he was too far from the fire to use it as an excuse.

* * *

Veronica shook his head at Malone's odd behavior and went about cleaning up. One minute he was sweet and nice and the next he was distant and impractical. She glanced over to see Roxton watching her also through tired eyes.

He gestured to her injuries. "You have anything in your magic bag to take care of those bee stings?"

"They'll be fine. I pulled out the stingers. Luckily, I don't get any bad reactions from them. I stumbled into a nest of them when I ten. Screamed loud enough to make my parents think hordes of apemen were swarming the treehouse." A genuine smile of sweet memory crossed her features. "My father came rushing out and got caught up the same near panic. He hates bees."

"Odd thing for a botanist."

"Isn't it though?" She laughed, causing Malone to eye them curiously, but the man quickly turned away as if uncomfortable to be caught watching her again. Blowing out a sudden heavy sigh, she sat back and crossed her arms over her knees, returning to the pleasant cascade of memories. "He used to make me shake off the bees so he could pick the flowers he needed."

"So who saved you from the swarm?"

Laughing, she replied, "I saved both of us. I couldn't tell who had the most beestings, but I bet it was my father."

Roxton enjoyed seeing the delight in her face at the recollections. He understood not wanting to let go of them especially if there was even a chance she could have more. It was no wonder she reacted so strongly every time Malone suggested she should leave. The lad was fighting a losing battle there. Roxton would give anything to have even a few more minutes with his brother, if only to say he was sorry.

He could only pray that William held no hostility toward him as his demented dreams from that ichor-filled cave indicated. Those hallucinations had all been a product of his own guilt, or so he prayed. He would be forever grateful to Summerlee for saving his life and his sanity that day. And bless the old man, he had never breathed a word about what he saw or heard that day to any of the others. For that he would be eternally grateful. A man's pain was his own after all, or should be.

But he hated seeing Ned Malone in pain or even causing unwitting pain to the young girl who tended him. He shifted to a new position, straightening slightly. "You do realize that Malone doesn't mean anything with his talk of London."

Blue eyes snapped to his in surprise then her lips pursed as she realized their argument was that blatant even to Roxton who obviously had other more important things to think about at the moment. Veronica found it difficult to keep things private with so many people about. And the small circle their world had suddenly become it was not surprising that conversations were overheard. Though it unnerved her sometimes, especially when it concerned her.

"He places such significance on that damn place." Her fair head shook in frustration. "It would be nice to visit but I'm not ready yet."

"He just wants to share his world with you like you shared yours with him."

She sagged a bit. "I know, but why doesn't he accept the fact that I'm not leaving here until I'm ready....until I know ..." Faltering, she turned away.

"He's beginning to figure that out. Give him time. When the times comes, he'll understand."

"Then he shouldn't keep comparing my world to his. It's annoying."

Roxton smiled wearily and settled himself against the rock wall. He knew he wasn't going to stay awake much longer and he needed to rest for tomorrow. "You can't blame a man for trying, Veronica. We're a bull-headed lot. Ask Marguerite," he mumbled.

"What she knows about men, I'm not sure I want to know," she snorted.

"You'd get an education about us, that's for sure. None of it good either."

Veronica chuckled. The man couldn't be more accurate about that fact.

"Just remember, it's not always logic but compromise that moves a relationship along."

Veronica regarded him. That was sound advice and made far too much sense coming from Roxton. "Is that what she believes?"

"Who?" Roxton asked, stifling a yawn.

"Marguerite." Though, now that she thought about it that made less sense than Roxton coming up with that wisdom.

The man shrugged. "It was something my mother always said. She always wanted me to marry."

This admission took her by surprise. Roxton never spoke of his parents. But these last few dire hours brought many loved ones to the forefront of everyone's minds.

"Will you?"

Roxton cocked open an eyelid and mumbled. "When I find the right one." There was a gleam in his eye that indicated he had a fairly good idea he already had. His hand dropped to his pocket and fingered the small rough gem he had found earlier this morning. It was almost an unconscious thing to offer him comfort.

Veronica frowned at the hunter; she would have preferred he found someone else worthy of his honorable nobility than the deceitful and self-centered heiress. It pained her to think that Marguerite would no doubt break this man's heart someday, but she patted his arm, knowing that this was not the time or place to debate that. "Sleep. I'll rotate the night watch with Ned."

He didn't even protest. "Wake me at sunrise. And take stock of our ammo. We need to make it last. Perhaps we can signal the camp from the top of the hill. Send for more--." He was still tossing out instructions when he drifted off to sleep.

She smiled down at him. Even in the midst of a life threatening crisis and a painful injury the hunter still found time to be concerned about her love life.

Love life?

Could she really call it that? Should she? These things were fairly new to her. There had been dalliances sure, but most of them were platonic and safe. She had only thought she had been in love once and now over the passage of time that surety had begun to fade. Replaced perhaps because of what she now felt for Malone.

Rising to her feet, she came over to the reporter and watched the darkness with him. They were silent for a long while. Occasionally Malone would glance over at her and smile reassuringly but he wouldn't say a word.

Finally, she turned to him. "How are your scratches? We should take a look at them." She reached for his shirt.

"They're fine." He pulled away.

"Don't be that way, Ned."

He stilled. "They're just scratches," he said quietly.

"Which can get just as easily infected as Roxton's. The honey has a better chance of working on you really. They're not as deep." She disappeared for a second and then returned with the pouch of honey.

Malone's face was already turning all shades of colors at the visions of Veronica smearing his chest with honey. His memory flashed back to the time in the large beehive where she had been coated with the stuff so that she glistened like a newborn goddess. Oh the thoughts that had raced in his head that day were just about too much for him. He stepped away as if she held a satchel of serpents instead. His obvious desire was rising in very noticeable places. He almost turned from her.

"What's the matter with you?" she said. "Its just honey. It won't hurt."

Malone got annoyed at that statement. That was the least of his worries. And he hated that she didn't have the sense to see that wasn't the issue. One minute she was mad at him and the next minute it was about skinny-dipping at the pond and now smearing honey on him. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How clueless could a woman be?

But he stayed his ground lest she think he was afraid. He braced himself, knowing how her touch was the one thing that seared him to his very soul. How could one person have so much power in them? Perhaps it would be best not to bring her to London? She would have so many suitors, Malone couldn't hope to hold them all off. With so many to choose from, she might not choose him and suddenly that pained him as well, even more than the wounds.

From his expression, Veronica assumed she was hurting him physically and apologized as her hand spread the honey over the long thin scratches.

Malone angled his head down and looked at her. "It doesn't hurt," he strained to say, but it came out a small gasp. She raised an eyebrow. He quickly covered, casting his thoughts to something mundane and completely irrelevant. "My aunt's cat back home has done worse damage than this to me. Trust me."

That elicited a smile from her and Malone cherished its appearance. It was the one thing he worshiped most of all. It transformed her into a lovely woman with a light heart, one without all the cares and burdens she carried around every day. She always strived to take on more and more responsibility, not just to them but also to other denizens of the plateau. She never turned away someone in need and she never shirked her obligations. It was a marvel.

"Your aunt's cat was large then?" she asked.

"Yes, and it once trapped me in the bathroom. I was in there for hours as it sat by the door hissing."

"No one came to your rescue?"

"It was late. Everyone was asleep." His voice had finally settled and was a mere whisper now. His eyes lost in the glow of her hair from the fire.

"How did you escape?"

His gaze dropped into the depths of her eyes, his hand reaching up to move a stray strand aside so he could see them better. "I threw a bath towel over it and booted it aside. Opened the door and ran. It was locked in there the whole night mewing and spitting."

"You never told me you had experience with cats." Her voice was low as well; her hand was still skimming lightly over his chest, drawing thin lines of honey with her fingers.

"It didn't seem the same thing. Besides, I didn't have my weapon of choice with me." Malone's attention was more on the sensation her fingers caused than on what he was saying.

Her head cocked in puzzlement.

"Um, my bath towel," he told her.

Her genuine laughter resounded in the silence surrounding them. She pressed an arm over her mouth as she fought the giggles. Malone grinned broadly at her, pleased that he could make her laugh as well as smile. He was drunk with the power of it.

Veronica finally got her laughter under control. "Now that I would have loved to have seen," she admitted.

Malone blushed a bit, his mind flashing on him running naked out the bath door only to run into Veronica outside. Her eyes wide, her mouth caught in a little shocked o-shape. Stammering, he stepped back, drawing his shirt closed. "Well, t-that was a long time ago."

Puzzled, Veronica let her hand drop away. But she recovered quickly from his retreat from her. "Next time, we'll carry some towels with us for protection." She smiled gently, hoping again to recapture the moment.

Malone sighed, but returned the smile. "Somehow I don't think these big cats would be frightened of me and my bath towel."

Veronica bit her lip as she imagined Ned Malone fully naked and waving a bath towel at a huge, hungry sabertooth cat. She abruptly shook her head and stepped back. "One of us should get some sleep," she mumbled, struggling to ban the image from her mind.

That seemed like a distinct impossibility now, thought Malone as he stared after her. She was an amazing woman and no matter what she did, even if it was as simple as caring for his wound, she consumed his every thought.

The woman made any who stood in her light a pale imitation of a shadow. Was it any wonder he wanted to share her with the whole world? He had never met another woman like her. And he never would.

Tbc

Don't forget to leave a Review


	8. Long Walk Home

**SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST**

By _Susan Zell_

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER EIGHT

_"Long Walk Home"_

Morning struck far faster than any of them believed. For all of them, exhaustion still beat at their every muscle. Each ached and bore the scars of the previous days' adventure and a long day yet still loomed ahead of them. The dawn was bright and dry, the heat quickly rising even though the sun was nowhere near its zenith. Another day ridden with drought, driving poor beasts to desperate acts and forcing all denizens of the plateau to fight for their lives.

Veronica darted down off the cliff wall and alighted to the ground. She handed the signaling mirror back to Malone.

"Did they see it?" he asked.

"There was no answering signal. The camp might be too low in the valley, the cover too thick. It's a probably bet we're on our own."

"Any sign of the cats?" inquired Roxton as he stiffly gained his feet. He felt it best to move around and get his muscles used to the activity. It was a long walk home.

Veronica shook her head. "They're either still hiding in the grass or maybe they've moved on."

"You really think so?" Malone asked hopefully.

Roxton laid a hand on the lad's shoulder, as much to placate him as to lean on him for balance. "I'll wager they'll still there. Waiting."

"Are they that intelligent?"

"Hunger will make them so."

"Challenger would call that a method of evolution."

"I suppose it is. And they'll pass down any new hunting methods to their young." Roxton smiled wryly. "So long as it works." He picked up his rifle. "I don't know about you lot, but I'm not ready to be something in a lesson book for a sabertooth cub."

"Me neither," agreed Malone.

"Good lad."

"How's the leg?" inquired Veronica.

"It stopped bleeding, though it will most likely start up again once we get moving." His irritation at that fact was obvious.

"Well, keep my belt as a tourniquet; you may need it by the end of the day." Her knife would not leave her hand today regardless. She glanced up the cliff wall with a bit of longing. It would have made sense to start their journey there and head around the camp and the sabertooths most likely waiting right outside the _zareba_.

Roxton stepped up beside her. "I'm still game if you are. I can make that climb given enough motivation, which I think the cats have provided in spades."

Veronica regarded him and his pant leg coated in dried blood. She shook her head. "It's a tough climb, even for me. A lot of loose shale. It's not our last resort."

"Not yet."

Offering the hunter a rueful frown, she shrugged. "I'd rather not doctor any broken bones from a fall. Stitching you up was bad enough. Right now we're all walking, let's not risk it by taking an unnecessary tumble."

"Are you saying he's clumsy?" asked Malone, coming up beside the two of them. There was a definite twinkle in the reporter's eye.

"Watch it, Neddy boy," Roxton snarled. He was well known for taking an unexpected trip or two, but he didn't like being reminded of that fact, especially in front of the ladies.

But there was no fear in Malone's face as he grinned and handed Roxton his hat. Roxton smirked at his young friend and slapped him good-naturedly on his shoulder. Veronica chuckled, enjoying the light banter. If it was one thing that amazed her about her new companions was that they always used humor to lighten a situation. She hadn't experienced that since her parent's disappearance. She didn't realize she had missed it so much.

"Are we ready?" she asked.

Roxton worked the bolt back on his rifle and Malone did the same.

"Let's go home," Roxton commanded. They moved closer to the edge of the _zareba_, their gazes stretched out to the grass beyond, searching for their enemy.

Malone pulled apart a section of the thorny barricade. He half expected a flood of fur and teeth to pour through. But nothing happened. Roxton trained his rifle sights out beyond the _zareba_, searching for movement, but there was nothing.

He nodded for Malone to go through. Veronica would walk between them, covered by the two rifles. Each held their breath as they passed through the barrier that had kept them safe through the long night. Now they were in the open again and vulnerable.

Every nerve along Veronica's spine twitched; she couldn't quell the sensation. Instinct was screaming at her to stay where she was in the safe arms of their small camp. But with such limited supplies she knew their only logical option was to leave now before they grew too weak or used up their short supply of ammunition and miniscule amount of water.

Malone's fingers gripped the stock of his rifle. His eyes darted everywhere for each bush seemed filled to the brim with the enemy, watching and waiting for them to make a mistake. The cuts along his chest burned as much from clenched muscles as from the ripped skin. He made a conscious effort to relax; Roxton always told him to not be so tense. It made for panic and hasty judgments. He wanted to look behind him to check on his friends but he knew that any distraction was like ringing a dinner bell to their adversaries. They would immediately take the advantage.

"Don't lag behind," murmured Veronica over her shoulder but without taking her gaze from her surroundings.

"I have no intention of lagging behind," Roxton assured her. "And if I do you'll hear about it, trust me. I may be a stiff upper lipped lord at times, but I'm not dim-witted."

"Well, to hear Marguerite tell it...."

"She would be mistaken," countered Roxton sharply. Anger blossomed a moment within his breast at the thought of the raven-haired woman spinning yet another tale of mischief and mendacity, but than it faded to a warm glow. That was Marguerite's way, anything to ward off someone trying to get close. That included Veronica. The two women had a great deal in common and if they would just give it a chance, a close friendship could be formed between them.

Roxton understood Marguerite far too well. He could tell a defensive posture all too well in a hunted animal. She was a calculating and cunning woman and rarely said things that wouldn't serve a purpose. In this case, it was just another means to keep them at arm's length. Challenger once likened her to a frilled lizard called a chlamydosaurus, which displays its brightly colored frill to frighten enemies. She played the vain, arrogant heiress but it was all an act, Roxton thought at times. There was vulnerability in her that was crystal clear to the hunter. Maybe because he saw that fear in so many of the creatures he hunted. Rarely was an animal malicious. They were merely trying to survive. He saw it a hundred times in their eyes. And he saw the same thing in Marguerite's eyes sometimes. She was fighting for her life here. He could feel it.

They found a trail and followed it through, aiming for home as best they could. Navigating was difficult in the heavy canopied jungle, but occasionally through the breaks in the foliage a distant landmark could be discerned or the sun's position could be seen.

Still they were well over two hours from where they had left the others when Veronica stopped and signaled the others to do the same. She let the sounds of the jungle wash over her, listening for anything that was out of place. Something was. The birds and other animals were suddenly silent.

Roxton's rifle hefted higher in his arms and he made a slow circular arc around them, searching for the danger. Malone followed his companions' leads.

"Where is it?" he asked nervously.

Veronica shook her head.

The thicker vegetation enabled the predator to remain concealed. It could literally come at them from any angle, but the wider trail still made for better conditions than in the waist high sea of grass they had previously left. It had been a miracle they had survived that encounter. The danger was still great. But with any luck the sabertooths, used to hunting on the plain, were not as skilled in hunting in the jungle. Roxton was surprised they had followed them at all. Only desperation was forcing them to stray so far from their usual hunting grounds, much like the explorers had done yesterday.

But depending on how many in the pride followed after them would determine whether the explorers would make it back home alive. Of course, it might not be the cats that were stalking them now either. It could easily be raptors or apemen or cannibals. The list was too numerous to run through.

Then a sabertooth sprang from the brush behind Roxton. He barely made the arc with his rifle before the animal was barreling down the trail. Less than a leap away, Roxton fired and it caved in and fell to the vegetation laden floor. Roxton started backing up as he saw two more pacing in the flora beyond. Malone followed his lead but held his fire since they didn't seem to be attacking. He had stepped up beside Roxton to cover the animals, leaving Veronica safe behind them.

"Back up," Roxton commanded and soon they were all three moving down the trail with their attention centered behind them as the big cats warily came out after them. They didn't seem interested in taking the offensive suddenly as if the sabertooths had finally realized the futility of it, but were too hungry to just walk away from a meal.

It was then Roxton realized something was amiss. He had witnessed cooperative hunting tactics on the African plains that drove the prey into the claws of other pride members waiting in ambush.

He shouted out, "Behind us!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the snarls and roars of three other big cats filled the air as they leaped for Veronica, now in the lead.

She leapt aside and the first big cat missed her by inches. The crack of Malone's rifle filled the air as he fired directly into the heart of the foremost beast. Roxton's echoed after and it fell. Veronica took the risk and threw her knife into the heart of the last. Then she ran for the nearest tree; she was too much of a liability on the ground. Roxton fired on the remaining beast that made a crazed leap for the climbing Veronica, a large knife protruding from its chest. A huge paw with claws extended almost snagged her foot, but it was shoved aside as a bullet crashed through its ribcage.

Roxton swung immediately back to the sabertoothed beasts that had been pacing behind him. They were charging as well now, eager to join their brethren in the hunt. He shot at the nearest one and sent it crashing back into the jungle, screaming in agony and shock. The second one realized the futility of the kill and darted away to safety. Malone's rifle fired twice after it.

"Don't waste your shots," Roxton huffed. Exhaustion was already beginning to beat at him. It had been a long fruitless hunt to begin with and this prolonged march for survival was taking its toll on all of them. His leg throbbed with the rapid beating of his heart. Blood was flowing freely again through the wound. He could feel it dripping warm against his cold leg.

Veronica hopped down from the tree and recovered her knife once again. "How much ammunition do we have left?" She wasn't a fool; she knew that they had expended quite a bit already, and they were still a fair piece from the safety of the camp.

Roxton was blunt about it. "Not enough."

"Are we going to make it?" Malone asked.

The hunter smiled at the younger man. It was weary and drawn but it still offered his companions a bit of hope. "Don't be daft, man. Of course we are."

Roxton had a way of doing that. No matter the odds or the direness of the situation, Lord Roxton never admitted defeat and never once saw their survival as anything but absolute. Such confidence seeped into the others and kept them moving as they once again began their march.

* * *

The sun was just starting to rise over the eastern horizon, which was identifiable to Marguerite, not by the sun's bright rays, but by the raucous greeting of every bloody creature on the plateau. The noise was deafening. Her gaze immediately scanned the camp for their missing companions. It was easy to see they had not snuck in under the cover of night after her last watch.

With a colorful curse, Marguerite rose and bushed all kinds of detritus from her evenings' sojourn on the hard ground. Summerlee was still asleep, poor thing, but Challenger was coming toward her, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked tired and as frustrated as her. The thoughts of the sabertooth gnawed bones had consumed him all night.

"We're going to look for them?" she asked a tad tersely.

"Yes. At best we'll merely meet them on the trail somewhere."

Marguerite didn't allow herself to think about what would be the worse case scenario, mainly because she had already done so all night long.

"Rouse Summerlee, if you please, Marguerite. I will break camp. I've made a small cold breakfast. You both can eat along the way."

"How thoughtful," she muttered. Nuts, berries, or worse dried, cold, raptor meat. Another fine day of dining, she mocked silently. _Damn you, Roxton, you better have one hell of an excuse for making me suffer so. _Her stomach was in knots, but it wasn't because of the food.

Within the hour they were heading down the path that Challenger was sure would lead them to their lost friends. He realized that any one of a hundred reasons could have made them take another trail. But it was all they had left to go on. Marguerite had left a note at the campsite indicating that they would spend the next day or two searching for them. Then they would head for the treehouse in case anyone ended up there and wait for a signal. It was a routine that most of them were comfortable with. The jungle was too huge to permit anything more in terms of a rescue party. The signaling mirrors weren't quite the boon Challenger had hoped. He would have to work on perfecting the concept sometime soon, but the foliage was just too full and dense to work with, unless you were up high enough to cast the signal and also receive it. And it was too sporadic and chancy to actually manage to do both at exactly the same time.

Marguerite sidled up to him, causing him to cast aside his musings. She looked angry. But then she always looked angry.

"Those bones yesterday," she began, "why the worry? They were old, weren't they?"

Challenger shrugged. "Not necessarily. The plateau has become exceedingly efficient at cleaning and bleaching bones before their time. A single roach could have reduced those poor souls back there to nothing in just a few hours time."

Marguerite shuddered. The creature Challenger was talking about was everywhere around here and it was far larger than the largest variety to stalk London. She had once found one in their food supply and had screamed for over a minute flat when it moved toward her. Thankfully, Roxton had been there with this hunting knife and pinned the four foot creature to the barrel. Summerlee had been so excited he mounted the bloody thing, until he realized it was not rare. Not rare at all. It had about four billion brethren running around the sorry plateau.

"But you said it was a sabertooth that ate them," she continued.

"Sabertooths are voracious eaters, yes, but they won't pick the bones completely clean. The insects did that. I'm just pointing out that those bones may only be a few days old instead of a few years old."

Suddenly Marguerite felt sorry for the camp they had discovered. No one would ever know who they were or what happened to them, or if they knew a way off the plateau. "So your saying that sabertooths are in the area," she concluded.

"Quite possibly."

"This isn't their hunting ground. They like it flat and scrubby."

"True. But this drought can certainly cause some interesting events to transpire out of the norm. They are well out of their range."

"You think that's what happened to Roxton and the others?" There was a distinct rise in her fear level.

Challenger reached out a hand and touched hers gently. "That and a variety of other things, my dear. Let's not start panicking yet."

"Oh, I'm long past panicking," she muttered.

Tbc

Please leave a review.


	9. Impeccable Timing, As Always

SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER NINE

"Impeccable Timing, As Always"

The bedraggled trio made a sorry sight as they traveled down a worn path. The going was slow. Roxton's limp was pronounced and his face pinched tight. He was exhausted. Any energy he may have garnered from last evening's rest was quickly expended as he stumbled over roots and plateau detritus. It was a genuine effort now to keep his attention on the jungle around him. He was grateful for the man and woman walking behind him.

Veronica had noticed him falling behind and had placed him at point, allowing him to set the pace, slow and plodding. Malone took up the rear this time. One thing kept gnawing at Roxton. They had expended a great deal of ammunition over the course of this hunt. They were down to what they had left in their weapons, and not all of the chambers were full. If the cats decided to rush one last time, it wouldn't take much of a sustained attack to drain them.

He had to hope that the cats' continuing failure had disheartened them enough go back to the plains and pray for rain. If he weren't so tired he would have smiled at his little joke.

But his hopes were dashed the minute he spied a tawny shape through the brush. A rifle shot rang out and the cat sprang deeper into the jungle. A second shot followed after.

"Malone, enough! Don't waste your ammo," Roxton shouted.

The three huddled together, their backs to each other's.

Veronica, her bloody knife clenched tight in her hand, could see more of the shapes shifting through the dense woods. "They're just pacing us, following us."

"Why aren't they attacking?" Malone asked nervously.

"They just got smarter."

Veronica was not pleased. She had rarely seen them so persistent. Usually one battle with guns would frighten most sabertooths away.

"Are you telling me they know we're running out of bullets?" Malone was incredulous.

"No," Roxton said. "They know we're wounded and tired. They're hopeful that one of us will fall behind and the others won't care. They just have to wait."

"We're not antelope. We don't abandon anyone."

Roxton flashed him a grin. "Lucky for me."

"So maybe they'll just follow us the rest of the way. When we reach camp, and reinforcements, perhaps they'll see the futility of this hunt."

"Perhaps," Roxton mused. "We can't afford to waste our shots though. Challenger and the rest might have headed for home already. They have no idea we ran into trouble. What we have in our guns may be all that stands between us and a sabertooth's belly."

The troop broke apart and took up their positions as before. It was still a slow pace and nervous eyes darted to and fro about them in an effort to locate the enemy. The cats were making no attempt to hide the fact that they were out there.

Every once in a while he would catch sight of their coats, flashing golden brown against the deep green. Malone's first instinct was to bring the cat into his rifle sights and fire. But he was more terrified of facing these brutes without any weapon whatsoever. So he held his instincts in check.

Veronica spoke from in front of him. She had her head partially turned so that Malone could hear, or maybe because it was something Roxton most likely already knew. "I've seen them try to scatter iguanodons into panic. They'll try to break and scatter us so they can more easily select a victim."

Almost as suddenly as she said the words, one beast broke from cover and charged her.

Roxton and Malone's weapons swiftly rose.

"Don't fire!" shouted Roxton.

Malone's hands were shaking so hard that he was surprised the rifle didn't discharge automatically because of it.

"Wait for it! Wait for it!" chanted the hunter.

No more than twenty paces from Veroncia, Roxton took a bold step forward and shouted "Boom!"

The cat slid and twisted to the side, and in two leaps disappeared into the brush.

Malone nearly collapsed. He was shaking all over now. Even Veronica looked as pale as Roxton.

"It's like facing a speeding A-train with nothing but a flag," he cried out.

"Or a towel," said Veronica.

Malone let out a gasping laugh. Veronica joined him.

Roxton merely looked at the two them with a raised eyebrow. It was better not to know their inside joke, but he was relieved that somehow the two had made peace with each other. He felt it important. He prayed he had the same opportunity to do so with Marguerite.

He wondered if she was still cross with him. It pained him to think so. No matter what was between them, he swore he would make it right the minute he saw her. Life was far too short and time too precious to bandy words with petty arguments. He had said his peace on the matter and it was done. He could only hope that she was as forgiving of him and saw the reason for the way he spoke. An apology from him about the way he brought the matter to light should do wonders to soothe her ruffled feathers. And the stone he carried would help as well. His fingers automatically touched the stone in his pocket, running a thumb over the smooth left side and it calmed him.

"That probably won't work a second time without a real bullet to back it up," Malone pointed out.

"You're probably right," agreed the hunter. "Every bullet counts now. We need a killing blow with every shot."

Malone's confidence was not as secure as the other two professional hunters. He kept trying to make himself forget he was just a journalist. Today, he was a deadly professional adventurer. He wondered how long it would take him to fully believe that notion.

They walked on slowly; the oppressive heat drained them with every footstep. Roxton knew they needed water. Their canteens had gone dry hours ago and they couldn't afford to become dehydrated and still maintain their concentration on staying alive. There was a waterhole that held promise only a quarter mile to their right.

Roxton presented Veronica with his opinion. Amidst much apprehension eventually she couldn't fault his logic. They decided it was worth the risk. If for no other reason that perhaps there would be other animals about which would distract the cats. Easier prey was always appetizing.

They had to leave the safety of the path but Roxton soon found an animal trail and took that making their journey a tad less difficult. It wasn't as wide as the previous trail, this one being made by smaller animals rather than large dinosaurs, but most everything in the Lost World was large. Even the smaller animals made wide paths.

Malone kept holding his breath as the trail brought the cats into even closer proximity. It felt as if they could reach out with their huge paws and snatch him from his very spot. But miraculously none tried. In fact, they remained unchallenged all the way to the waterhole. Whereas before they had seemed everywhere, now they were gone. He couldn't see or hear them anymore. Oddly it didn't leave him feeling any sense of relief at all. He placed the rifle over his shoulder and drew out the pistol. It would work better in the closer conditions.

There was sparse vegetation and no animals by the waterhole. The reason became quickly clear. The waterhole had long dried up. All that was left was a smattering of mud and some rocks. Birds and lizards were fighting for it, but there was only enough to barely slack even their thirst.

The three stood there and combed every bush, gully and patch of brown grass with a trained eye and it was long minutes later that Roxton finally decided it was safe to head back to camp.

Dejected, they had just made the turn back onto the trail when all hell broke loose. The brush erupted with a snarling mass of attacking sabetooths. How they missed colliding with each other in the momentary commotion Malone don't know. One lioness was not more than five meters from him before launching herself at Roxton, a mere two meters from the hunter. He felt the draft of her passing against his face and looked into her eye.

Incredibly...she missed!

The couple of seconds of intense action and excitement seemed like a lifetime. Veronica shouted and dove at Roxton to pull him aside, though even her reflexes wouldn't have saved him if the cat's attack had been accurate. Either it was some inner sixth sense of the hunter's that made him pause for just a second or the starving weakened animal had miscalculated. Veronica guessed it was more an angel's guiding hand instead. Malone's pistol boomed and then it was followed by a second and a third.

However, none of those latter shots had come from him or Roxton. But three big cats lay dead at their feet. Not a single one of them moved.

The dust settled and Malone slowly got his heart to beat normally again. He had seen other kills attempted from a distance, but there was nothing to match the incredible reality of being in the middle of it all. Death had stared them all in the face and it had come with slashing claws and tearing teeth.

To his disbelief, Challenger, Marguerite and Summerlee emerged from the jungle, their rifles and pistols smoking.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed. He had never been happier to see his fellow explorers, even Marguerite.

Roxton straightened wearily; it took effort not to collapse at their feet. But he still summoned the strength to casually tilt his rifle back and rest the barrel against his shoulder, as if there wasn't another threat in the world. Or that the gun was empty and therefore not a danger to anyone.

"Impeccable timing, as always, Challenger," he commented. His sentence came out in between gasps for precious oxygen.

Veronica couldn't help the grin that spread across her face when the familiar shapes of her fellow explorers emerged from the dark green.

Marguerite smiled back, lowering her smoking rifle, until she got a good look at the people she had just saved. Her smile faded. They were a beleaguered bunch that gathered together in the clearing, covered in dirt and sweat.

Still, Marguerite couldn't contain her relief or her excitement at their entrance, not that she'd show it. "Just where the hell have you all been? We've been looking for you for hours."

A drained Roxton responded, "It's good to see you too, Marguerite."

Professor Challenger approached the carcasses of the cats. Squatting beside them, he cast a wide grin at the returning hunters, eager to hear of their exploits, even over the prospect of examining a sabertooth cat up close.

Marguerite suddenly noted that they had not brought back any game with them. "Don't tell me you didn't find anything for dinner again?" The disappointment was plain.

Roxton had the audacity to wave a hand at one of the cat carcasses.

"This dry spell brought a pride of sabertooths to this area," Veronica explained. "They've shifted the balance of the food chain."

It was then Marguerite saw that Malone was limping slightly and the young journalist's shirt was a seamstress's nightmare while Roxton's leg was drenched in blood. She quickly approached Roxton and eased him down toward a nearby rock.

"What happened?" asked a concerned Challenger.

"We almost became the main course ourselves," Roxton quipped. "A pride of sabertooths stalked us most of the way back."

Malone emptied his pistol into his hand. Only two bullets emerged, the rest were empty shells. "It's a good thing you found us when you did. This was all that was between us and them." It was the last of their bullets.

"Lucky indeed," agreed Challenger. "Are all of you well?"

Roxton grunted an affirmative.

"We best remove ourselves from this area. We'll be safer back at the treehouse," Summerlee suggested. He knelt beside Roxton and examined the injury. He glanced up. "Do you think you can make it?"

Roxton offered a wry grin. "It's better than worrying about cats all night. I'll feel safer once we get home."

Marguerite regarded Challenger. "But what about..."

"Later," he cautioned. He leaned in toward the heiress. "If we mention it now, Roxton will demand he see it. Let's get them home and fixed up. Then we'll go back for it. Malone and I can haul it home before Roxton even hears about it."

Surprised at the man's logic and deviousness, she grinned. "Why, Challenger, I never thought you had it in you."

He huffed and straightened his posture. "Why, madam, I have no idea what you're talking about?"

She chuckled softly and then moved toward Roxton to help Summerlee conduct some cursory first aid before their long trek home.

Tbc

Please leave a review


	10. Taking Stock

**SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST**

By _Susan Zell_

Disclaimers: Refer to Chapter One

Chapter Ten

"Taking Stock"

Roxton opened his eyes reluctantly. He had been dreaming and he wasn't sure he wanted to leave the comforting thoughts of his wayward mind. He was also reluctant to move, knowing that his body was still healing and any movement would merely start the aches garnered these last couple of days.

But the thought of seeing the object of his dreams in the flesh prompted him to waken. Blinking against the bright sunshine, he cast his gaze about the room. He alighted on the form of a sleeping woman curled against the framework of the single chair in his room. Marguerite looked most uncomfortable within its confines and it appeared she had been there all night, as she had been the last couple of days while he healed.

In her lap was some sewing and what looked like Ned's mauled shirt and Roxton's own ripped pants. It lay abandoned in her limp fingers, thread and needle paused as if she would just start up again at any moment.

A fever had struck him but it wasn't a deadly one, just merely a bother to the hunter. Summerlee had been concerned but attributed the mildness of the illness to Roxton's bullheaded nature and Veronica's quick thinking with the honey. But it had kept him rooted to his room and bed.

To his surprise Marguerite had taken it upon herself to be his nurse. She claimed that Summerlee was exhausted from the extended excursion into the jungle and that she was doing it as a kindness to the older man. Roxton supposed that might be so, but he preferred to think that maybe she wanted to do it for another reason.

He couldn't help but watch her a few minutes unobserved while she slept, but the angle of her neck and the crooked position of her back finally made him wince in sympathy. A gentle cough from his lips was enough to rouse her abruptly, as if she had been unconsciously on guard for the slightest distress from him.

Her worried expression twisted slightly as she moved, wincing against the sharp pain that stabbed at her spine as she straightened. A groan escaped her as she struggled to get upright and see to him.

"Go slow, Marguerite. All is well," he assured her. He was afraid she'd pierce herself with the sewing. But she seemed to remember it at the last moment and put it carefully aside before standing.

She regarded him as she came over rubbing her neck and rolling her shoulders under her rumpled blouse. "How are you feeling?"

Her hand brushed against his forehead and he closed his eyes, relishing the cool touch. Such comfort as that could heal a man far faster than any jungle remedy.

"Your fever broke," she commented.

"Mmm-hmm," he sighed.

It suddenly struck Marguerite how much he was enjoying her hand on his flesh and she promptly removed it. She regretted it however as his boyish smile abruptly faded into disappointment.

She covered her own lament by sitting beside him on the bed to examine the bandages. His smile returned immediately. Willing herself not to look at its brilliance, she lifted the dressing. To her great relief there was no fresh blood on it. "I do believe you are going to pull through."

"Thanks to your sweet Nightingale duties."

"I told you, I was merely..."

"I know what you told me," he acknowledged with a patient nod.

Marguerite studied him cautiously. She certainly didn't want the man thinking there was anything more to her nursing for she would do it for any of them. Wouldn't she?

He shifted in the bed, his hand reaching up to her shoulder. His fingers kneaded the taunt muscle there. "How is your neck?"

Exhaling slowly as his massage loosened her stiff and aching muscles. Her eyes closed in abject heaven. "It hurts," she mumbled. "That chair of yours will be the death of me one day."

"It is my favorite piece of furniture in the entire treehouse."

She cracked an eye open. "It's horrid. There's not a comfortable spot at all."

His grin widened. "It's not the chair so much as what it represents."

She regarded him curiously. There were times his mind worked in mysterious ways. "What does is that?"

"That I'm never alone when I need someone most."

Her skin immediately flushed. She straightened away from him. "I should get Summerlee. He'll want to know your fever is gone."

He grabbed her arm gently. "Can't he wait a bit? I'd much rather continue to enjoy your company."

Marguerite was allowing panic to set in. He was once again pushing his way past her defenses. God, how she wanted him to come in, but knew she dare not allow him anywhere near her heart. Oh, the damage he could work once there. She tossed her thick back over her shoulder in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "Well, we have a surprise for you. It will make you feel much better."

"I feel better with you right here," he coaxed her.

She pulled herself from his gentle grip. It was like she had pushed off from a mountain. She never felt so adrift when that strength of his was gone. His touch, no matter how gentle, was a steadying force of nature for her. Was it any wonder why she gravitated toward him all the time? Of course, it wasn't because of his rugged good looks or quirky sense of humor or his tortured soul that mirrored her own. She drew in a shaky breath and turned to head upstairs. "I'll be right back." She practically fled.

Moments later, Summerlee's kind face replaced hers. "How are we doing this morning?"

Roxton shrugged. "Better. Ready to get out of this bed."

Summerlee nodded. "Challenger has fashioned some crutches for you to assist you around the treehouse. Just promise me not to fall and reopen anything and you can get up."

"I solemnly swear not to fall and make you play nursemaid." Roxton laid a hand across his chest.

Summerlee grinned. "That goes for Marguerite as well," he pointed out with that clever knowing twinkle in his eye.

Roxton arched an eyebrow at the cagey man. He excelled at the silent observer. Malone could learn a thing or two from the professor. Roxton allowed a faux pout. "You do take all the fun out of things."

"We can't afford to have you laid up for two long, dear boy." His hand patted Roxton's arm.

"Yes. We need to discuss the matter of ammunition as quickly as possible. Has anyone taken stock of what we had left?" Suddenly Roxton was all business. The weight of being in charge of their safety settled on him once more. He had ignored it long enough. "We need to think about going back to pick up the empty casings we left behind."

Summerlee just smiled down at him paternally. "Don't worry about that for right now. There is no danger about at present and I'm sure something will turn up."

Roxton warily eyed the older man. Something wasn't quite right. That twinkle was back again. "That's no way to think about the future, Summerlee. It's best we start preparing ourselves for some hard times ahead. Life on this blasted plateau without a means to protect ourselves will mean a short life expectancy."

"My prescription for you, my boy, is to rest and stop worrying. There's nothing that can be done by you for the moment. We have things well in hand. Challenger and Malone have been busy working on that very crisis."

Roxton was sitting up in the bed now. "In what way?" Challenger getting involved in any crisis was always a reason to be concerned. There were times he almost dreaded what bizarre device that wild brilliant mind had cooked up. Though at least a portion of them had worked in their favor. But the rest....

Summerlee couldn't help but laugh. He knew that expression of concern well. He had had it many times at the Archeological Society back in London, whenever Challenger demanded to speak in front of the assembly. The topics were slightly unorthodox and rather frightening to the general mind. Summerlee coughed to cover his own anxiety. "Well, my boy, nothing that warrants such concern as all that."

Roxton cocked an eyebrow at him. "Where are my crutches?"

To be concluded next chapter

Please leave a review


	11. An Excellent Find

**SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST**

By _Susan Griffith_

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

Chapter Eleven

_"An Excellent Find"_

Roxton eased his way up the stairs, Marguerite at his side offering her balance and strength and carrying his crutches. His wounds were healing thanks to Summerlee's precise doctoring and Veronica's miraculous honey. Both had gone a long way in preventing blood loss and infection. The tears in his flesh still hurt like blazes but at least he would keep the leg.

Truth be told he was more concerned over their ammunition or lack of it. Their stores had now been rapidly depleted on just one fruitless hunting trip. It didn't sit well with him. He'd have to spend the next few days reloading what he could, which wasn't much. Eventually, they'd have to return to the far hunting ground to collect the spent shells. But only after the sabertooths had departed or the rest of the game returned to satisfy their hunger, which could take weeks. And with the number of dangers that inundated the plateau that was far too long to be down on important life-saving ammunition.

Marguerite noted the dour expression of the hunter. She knew precisely what the problem was. _Poor thing. He really was worried. _She grinned like a Cheshire cat as she gently directed him to a chair by the table. The remainder of the expedition and Veronica were all gathered upstairs as well.

Roxton couldn't help but notice her good mood. It made him slightly nervous. Marguerite's knowing smiles rarely meant anything good. "I don't find our present dire situation amusing. Neither should you."

"Oh, I was sure you could handle a few tabby cats," she said in her normal teasing voice.

"London tabby cats don't have six inch canines and come up to my shoulders."

"You do make an irresistible cat toy, that's for sure." She practically purred at him.

He almost smiled. He knew her game. It was one they played often. "I leave that pleasure for you, my dear," he said quietly.

"See that you do." She sat beside him and cast a quick glance at the professor. "We have something to make you happy though, don't we, George?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we do! Great news." He gestured to a huge pile on the table, draped with a heavy tarp.

The hunter eyed the pile in front of him warily, his fingers playing with the tarp. "Well?" encouraged Roxton, easing his bruised frame into a more comfortable position, namely leaning slightly against the soft cushion of Marguerite. She didn't seem interested in pulling away.

"Go ahead, George. You tell him," insisted Marguerite.

"Oh, no! That pleasure belongs to you, my dear. After all it was your discovery."

Roxton rubbed his face with exasperation. "I hate to interrupt such a fine example of mutual admiration, but I wish one of you would just tell me before I keel over."

Challenger inclined his head toward Marguerite. She nodded, beaming as she leaned close to him.

"I've found a new cache of ammunition."

Roxton's mood improved immediately. Invigorated by the news, he immediately began asking questions. "Where is it? How much? What caliber?"

"Easy, man," Challenger soothed with a low chuckle. "All will be revealed." With a flourish that put to shame any carnival barker back home, he whipped off the tarp and revealed four crates of ammunition.

"Well, what do you think?" Marguerite procured a rather sizable handful of bullets from her prize and held them out to the hunter.

Like a jeweler eyeing the Hope of India, Roxton fingered a large rifle bullet. Marguerite beamed at how eager he was like, a child with a new toy or herself drooling over a cache of gems. It was surprising how delighted she was at the fact that she had made him so happy.

"There are crates of it," she whispered like a seductive imp on his shoulder.

"Are they the right caliber?" Malone asked, leaning over to take a look at the treasure in front of them. Challenger and he had spent the better of four days hauling the crates back to the treehouse until it was all safe within the perimeter of the electric fence.

"These are." Roxton thumbed two of the larger rifle shells. "We're desperately low on these." The rest, on the other hand, though for a different caliber, could be reloaded for some of their other weapons. Over half of it was usable. A bounty that made him practically giddy.

There had been other expeditions to this plateau, which was the only reason they had lasted this long. The leftover ammo from those groups who had died trying to find a way off the plateau had left behind some of their stores. With luck on occasion they would find some ammo; with greater luck it would match their own weapons. But lately their good fortune had been wearing thinner and thinner. And such battles as the ones with the sabertooths wore on their supplies heavily. But it was either that or be a meal for some prehistoric beast. In Roxton's mind the latter was out of the question.

The hunter regarded the heiress. "An excellent find, Marguerite, an excellent find indeed. Well done."

Marguerite beamed. "I have my moments." Then her lashes lowered, as did her smile. "Just think of it as, um, you know, my way of saying...well you know. I was cross with you when you had every right to be cross with me."

Roxton couldn't help but be shocked. She had almost apologized to him. Not directly so, but he could tell what was in her heart. He reached for her hand and held it for a moment. Delight coursed through him when she didn't pull away.

Marguerite could only stare at how her small hand nearly disappeared inside his broad palm. Her throat went dry. When he reluctantly let go, there in her own hand was an emerald, still rough and encased in sulpher deposits, but the size of the emerald was magnificent, far larger than the one she had doubled back for the other week.

Her eyes burned and she lifted them to Roxton, whose own eyes danced with sheer pleasure at seeing how delighted she was at his present. It wasn't the jewel that had affected her emotions, it was the fact that he thought about her even when she wasn't around. He cared. The gesture was everything to Marguerite. For that she treasured him. And that he could elicit that response in her was dangerous, very dangerous indeed.

She coughed and turned back to the stone, covering her emotions as best she could. "I can't tell how pure it is until I clean it up and polish it, but it could be worth something."

"Good. It looked like something you'd want."

Suddenly, she was frightened. Maybe he would take this whole thing the wrong way. Maybe the gift was more than a gift. Maybe accepting it gave him the wrong idea. She set the emerald roughly down on the table, though her hands didn't quite shift very far away from it.

Her voice was very low and she couldn't bring herself to look at him, only the emerald that seemed to dance with the same light as his eyes. "I'm still searching."

Roxton leaned down a little toward her, so that he could see her face. The pain and anxiety he saw there broke his heart. "Well, maybe I'll search a little while with you," he said gently.

Marguerite closed her eyes as pure elation ran through her like one of Challenger's live wires. She bit her lip in order to regain some control of it. John Roxton was like no other man she had ever known. He never seemed to push her. It was always a gentle nudge and nothing more, a gentle request never a demand. Strange how she found she didn't seem to mind which direction she went so long as they both went there together.

Her cool eyes found his and she swallowed against the dryness in her throat as she stared into the green warmth of his. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

His hand found hers again and squeezed. Roxton looked up to find the two of them alone.

Oddly enough, the rest of the treehouse inhabitants lately seemed to drift away whenever the two of them made an effort to draw closer to each other. Summerlee and Challenger departed for the lower bowels to the laboratory to examine their new fauna, while Veronica and Malone took the elevator to the jungle floor.

"It's so odd to see them flirt," Malone commented as he stepped out. "He's the only person that Marguerite will even tolerate at times. I get nothing but sarcasm and grief."

Veronica shrugged. "It's all in the delivery, I guess."

Malone watched her as she went about her chores, securing ropes, checking the fence, keeping the main path to the gate clear. Everything seemed so natural to her. It was obvious that she was accustomed to this life and felt no need to seek out anything else. Malone was just beginning to realize that maybe Roxton's approach to Marguerite could be applied to Veronica as well.

He couldn't make Veronica see that London was something she needed to see, so maybe he should help her solve the one mystery that continued to keep her here. Her parents. If he could help her find out what their fate was, perhaps then she would be willing to come with him, even for a little while, back to the wonderful world he knew and loved.

It gave him an incredible feeling of satisfaction. Even if he it took a hundred years, he would be willing to help her look. After all, the time would be spent at her side. He couldn't imagine a better place than that for the time being.

He ran over and assisted her with one of the heavy plant samples she was carrying. Surprised, she almost balked and told him she could handle it, but then she just smiled. Her hand brushed against his.

Then together they worked rearranging their life.

The End

_AUTHOR NOTES: The first few chapters involving Roxton, Malone and Veronica were actually the beginning of the official Lost World novels that hubby and I had started writing for the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Estate and New Line before the contract fell through. I thought them too good to just throw away without ever seeing the light of day, so I placed them in the middle of a fanfic. I hope they still hold up. It's actually just a small slice of what was going to be in the novel, and I hope someday to bring you the rest of it (which at this stage is still only a synopsis) in another story._

Please leave a review


End file.
